HE  JASPER  B. 


MARQUIS 


OF  TH1 
UNIVERSITY 
OF 


THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE  JASPER  B. 


THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE  JASPER  B. 


BY 

DON  MARQUIS 

AUTHOR  o*  "DANNY'S  OWN  STORY,"  ETC. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

1916 


COPYBIQHT,    1916,    BT 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
COPYBIQHT,  1916,  BY  STBEBT  AND  SMITH 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


I 


TO 

ALL  THE  COPYREADERS 

ON  ALL  THE  NEWSPAPERS 

OF  AMERICA 


M748775 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I.  A  BRIGHT  BLADE  LEAPS  FROM  A  RUSTY 

SCABBARD >,    .     I 

II.  THE  ROOM  OF  ILLUSION      .        .        .        .       10 

III.  A  SCHOONER,  A  SKIPPER  AND  A  SKULL    .      20 

IV.  A  BAD  MAN  TO  CROSS        .        .  36 
V.  BEAUTY  IN  DISTRESS 5° 

VI.  LADY  AGATHA'S  STORY       ....      7° 

VII.  FIRST  BLOOD  FOR  CLEGGETT        ...      85 

VIII.  A  FLAME  LEAPS  OUT  OF  THE  DARK  .        .     102 

IX.  MYSTERIES  MULTIPLY         .        .        .        .    n5 

X.  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAMP      .        .        .        .128 

XI.  REPARTEE  AND  PISTOLS       .        .        .        .145 

XII.  THE  SECOND  OBLONG  Box        .        .        .     159 

XIII.  THE  SOUL  OF  LOGAN  BLACK      .        .        .     173 

XIV.  CLEGGETT  STANDS  BY  His  SHIP        .        .183 
XV.  NIGHT,  TEMPEST,  LOVE  AND  BATTLE        .     196 

XVI.  ROMANCE  REGNANT 200 

XVII.  Miss  PRINGLE  CALLS  ON  MR.  CLEGGETT    .    201 

XVIII.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BLUE  PAJAMAS     .        .    210 

vii 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.  Two  GREAT  MEN  MEET      ....  221 

XX.  THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE         .        .  231 

XXI.  THE  THIRD  OBLONG  Box  ARRIVES     .        .  238 

XXII.  DANCING  ON  THE  DECK      ....  257 

XXIII.  CUTLASSES 267 

XXIV.  THE  DUEL   .......  280 

XXV.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  VESSEL'S  HOLD  .        .  294 

XXVI.  A  DOG  DIES  GAME 300 

XXVII.  CLEGGETT  ACCOMMODATES  THE  KING  .        .  310 


THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE  JASPER  B 


THE  CRUISE   OF  THE 
JASPER   B. 


CHAPTER   I 

A  BRIGHT  BLADE  LEAPS  FROM  A  RUSTY 
SCABBARD 

ON  an  evening  in  April,   191-,  Clement  J. 
Cleggett  walked  sedately  into  the  news 
room  of  the  New  York  Enterprise  with 
a  drab-colored  walking-stick  in  his  hand.    He  stood 
the  cane  in  a  corner,  changed  his  sober  street  coat 
for  a  more  sober  office  jacket,  adjusted  a  green 
eyeshade  below   his  primly  brushed  grayish  hair, 
unostentatiously  sat  down  at  the  copy  desk,  and 
unobtrusively  opened  a  drawer. 

From  the  drawer  he  took  a  can  of  tobacco,  a  pipe, 
a  pair  of  scissors,  a  paste-pot  and  brush,  a  pile  of 
copy  paper,  a  penknife  and  three  half-lengths  of 
lead  pencil. 

The  can  of  tobacco  was  not  remarkable.  The  pipe 
was  not  picturesque.  The  scissors  were  the  most 

i 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ordinary  of  scissors.  The  copy  paper  was  quite 
undistinguished  in  appearance.  The  lead  pencils 
had  the  most  untemperamental  looking  points. 

Cleggett  himself,  as  he  filled  and  lighted  the  pipe, 
did  it  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  sort  of  way. 
Then  he  remarked  to  the  head  of  the  copy  desk, 
in  an  average  kind  of  voice : 

"H'lo,  Jim." 

"H'lo,  Clegg,"  said  Jim,  without  looking  up. 
"Might  as  well  begin  on  this  bunch  of  early  copy, 
I  guess." 

For  more  than  ten  years  Cleggett  had  done  the 
same  thing  at  the  same  time  in  the  same  manner, 
six  nights  of  the  week. 

What  he  did  on  the  seventh  night  no  one  ever 
thought  to  inquire.  If  any  member  of  the  Enter 
prise  staff  had  speculated  about  it  at  all  he  would 
have  assumed  that  Cleggett  spent  that  seventh 
evening  in  some  way  essentially  commonplace, 
sober,  unemotional,  quiet,  colorless,  dull  and  Brook- 
lynitish. 

Cleggett  lived  in  Brooklyn.  The  superficial  ob 
server  might  have  said  that  Cleggett  and  Brooklyn 
were  made  for  each  other. 

The  superficial  observer!    How  many  there  are 

2 


Bright  Blade  Leaps  From  Rusty  Scabbard 

of  him!  And  how  much  he  misses!  He  misses, 
in  fact,  everything. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  telegraph 
operator  approached  the  copy  desk  and  handed 
Cleggett  a  sheet  of  yellow  paper,  with  the  remark : 

"Cleggett — personal  wire." 

It  was  a  night  letter,  and  glancing  at  the  signa 
ture  Cleggett  saw  that  it  was  from  his  brother 
who  lived  in  Boston.  It  ran: 

Uncle  Tom  died  yesterday.  Don't  faint  now. 
He  splits  bulk  fortune  between  you  and  me. 
Lawyers  figure  nearly  $500,000  each.  Mostly 
easily  negotiable  securities.  New  will  made 
month  ago  while  sore  at  president  temperance 
outfit.  Blood  thicker  than  Apollinaris  after  all. 
Poor  Uncle  Tom. 

EDWARD. 

Despite  Edward's  thoughtful  warning,  Cleggett 
did  nearly  faint.  Nothing  could  have  been  less 
expected.  Uncle  Tom  was  an  irascible  prohibi 
tionist,  and  one  of  the  most  deliberately  disoblig 
ing  men  on  earth.  Cleggett  and  his  brother  had 
long  ceased  to  expect  anything  from  him.  For 
twenty  years  it  had  been  thoroughly  understood 
that  Uncle  Tom  would  leave  his  entire  estate  to 

3 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

a  temperance  society.  Cleggett  had  ceased  to  think 
of  Uncle  Tom  as  a  possible  factor  in  his  life.  He 
did  not  doubt  that  Uncle  Tom  had  changed  the  will 
to  gain  some  point  with  the  officials  of  the  tem 
perance  society,  intending  to  change  it  once  again 
after  he  had  been  deferred  to,  cajoled,  and  flattered 
enough  to  placate  his  vanity.  But  death  had 
stepped  in  just  in  time  to  disinherit  the  enemies 
of  the  Demon  Rum. 

Cleggett  read  the  wire  through  twice,  and  then 
folded  it  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  He  rose  and 
walked  toward  the  managing  editor's  room.  As 
he  stepped  across  the  floor  there  was  a  little  dancing 
light  in  his  eyes,  there  was  a  faint  smile  upon  his 
lips,  that  were  quite  foreign  to  the  staid  and  sober 
Cleggett  that  the  world  knew.  He  was  quiet,  but 
he  was  almost  jaunty,  too;  he  felt  a  little  drunk, 
and  enjoyed  the  feeling. 

He  opened  the  managing  editor's  door  with  more 
assurance  than  he  had  ever  displayed  before.  The 
managing  editor,  a  pompous,  tall,  thin  man  with 
a  drooping  frosty  mustache,  and  cold  gray  eyes  in 
a  cold  gray  face  that  somehow  reminded  one  of 
the  visage  of  a  walrus,  was  preparing  to  go  home. 

"Well?"  he  said,  shortly. 
4 


Bright  Blade  Leaps  From  Rusty  Scabbard 

He  was  a  man  for  whom  Cleggett  had  long  felt 
a  secret  antipathy.  The  man  was,  in  short,  the 
petty  tyrant  of  Cleggett's  little  world. 

"Can  you  spare  me  a  couple  of  minutes,  Mr. 
Wharton?"  said  Cleggett.  But  he  did  not  say  it 
with  the  air  of  a  person  who  really  sues  for  a 
hearing. 

"Yes,  yes — go  on."  Mr.  Wharton,  who  had 
risen  from  his  chair,  sat  down  again.  He  was  dis 
tinctly  annoyed.  He  was  ungracious.  He  was 
usually  ungracious  with  Cleggett.  His  face  set  it 
self  in  the  expression  it  always  took  when  he 
declined  to  consider  raising  a  man's  salary.  Cleg 
gett,  who  had  been  refused  a  raise  regularly  every 
three  months  for  the  past  two  years,  was  familiar 
with  the  look. 

"Go  on,  go  on — what  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Wharton 
unpleasantly,  frowning  and  stroking  the  frosty 
mustache,  first  one  side  and  then  the  other. 

"I  just  stepped  in  to  tell  you,"  said  Cleggett 
quietly,  "that  I  don't  think  much  of  the  way  you 
are  running  the  Enterprise." 

Wharton  stopped  stroking  his  mustache  so 
quickly  and  so  amazedly  that  one  might  have 
thought  he  had  run  into  a  thorn  amongst  the 

5 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

hirsute  growth  and  pricked  a  finger.  He  glared. 
He  opened  his  mouth.  But  before  he  could  speak 
Cleggett  went  on : 

"Three  years  ago  I  made  a  number  of  sugges 
tions  to  you.  You  treated  me  contemptuously — 
very  contemptuously!" 

Cleggett  paused  and  drew  a  long  breath,  and  his 
face  became  quite  red.  It  was  as  if  the  anger  in 
which  he  could  not  afford  to  indulge  himself  three 
years  before  was  now  working  in  him  with  cumu 
lative  effect.  Wharton,  only  partially  recovered 
from  the  shock  of  Cleggett' s  sudden  arraignment, 
began  to  stammer  and  bluster,  using  the  words 
nearest  his  tongue: 

"You  d-damned  im-p-pertinent " 

"Just  a  moment,"  Cleggett  interrupted,  growing 
visibly  angrier,  and  seeming  to  enjoy  his  anger 
more  and  more.  "Just  a  word  more.  I  had  in 
tended  to  conclude  my  remarks  by  telling  you  that 
my  contempt  for  you,  personally,  is  unbounded.  It 
is  boundless,  sir!  But  since  you  have  sworn  at 
me,  I  am  forced  to  conclude  this  interview  in  an 
other  fashion." 

And  with  a  gesture  which  was  not  devoid  of 
dignity  Cleggett  drew  from  an  upper  waistcoat 

6 


Bright  Blade  Leaps  From  Rusty  Scabbard 

pocket  a  card  and  flung  it  on  Wharton's  desk. 
After  which  he  stepped  back  and  made  a  formal 
bow. 

Wharton  looked  at  the  card.  Bewilderment  al 
most  chased  the  anger  from  his  face. 

"Eh,"  he  said,  "what's  this?" 

"My  card,  sir!  A  friend  will  wait  on  you  to 
morrow  !" 

"Tomorrow?    A  friend?    What  for?" 

Cleggett  folded  his  arms  and  regarded  the  man 
aging  editor  with  a  touch  of  the  supercilious  in 
his  manner. 

"If  you  were  a  gentleman,"  he  said,  "you  would 
have  no  difficulty  in  understanding  these  things.  I 
have  just  done  you  the  honor  of  challenging  you  to 
a  duel." 

Mr.  Wharton's  mouth  opened  as  if  he  were  about 
to  explode  in  a  roar  of  incredulous  laughter.  But 
meeting  Cleggett's  eyes,  which  were,  indeed,  spark 
ling  with  a  most  remarkable  light,  his  jaw  dropped, 
and  he  turned  slightly  pale.  He  rose  from  his 
chair  and  put  the  desk  between  himself  and 
Cleggett,  picking  up  as  he  did  so  a  long  pair  of 
shears. 

"Put  down  the  scissors,"  said  Cleggett,  with  a 
7 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

wave  of  his  hand.  "I  do  not  propose  to  attack 
you  now." 

And  he  turned  and  left  the  managing  editor's 
little  office,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

The  managing  editor  tiptoed  over  to  the  door 
and,  with  the  scissors  still  grasped  in  one  hand, 
opened  it  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch.  Through  this 
crack  Wharton  saw  Cleggett  walk  jauntily  towards 
the  corner  where  his  hat  and  coat  were  hanging. 
Cleggett  took  off  his  worn  office  jacket,  rolled  it 
into  a  ball,  and  flung  it  into  a  waste  paper  basket. 
He  put  on  his  street  coat  and  hat  and  picked  up  the 
drab-colored  cane.  Swinging  the  stick  he  moved 
towards  the  door  into  the  hall.  In  the  doorway 
he  paused,  cocked  his  hat  a  trifle,  turned  towards 
the  managing  editor's  door,  raised  his  hand  with 
his  pipe  in  it  with  the  manner  of  one  who  points 
a  dueling  pistol,  took  careful  aim  at  the  second 
button  of  the  managing  editor's  waistcoat,  and 
clucked.  At  the  cluck  the  managing  editor  drew 
back  hastily,  as  if  Cleggett  had  actually  presented 
a  firearm ;  Cleggett's  manner  was  so  rapt  and  fatal 
that  it  carried  conviction.  Then  Cleggett  laughed, 
cocked  his  hat  on  the  other  side  of  his  head  and 
went  out  into  the  corridor  whistling.  Whistling, 

8 


Bright  Blade  Leaps  From  Rusty  Scabbard 

and,  since  faults  as  well  as  virtues  must  be  told, 
swaggering  just  a  little. 

When  the  managing  editor  had  heard  the  elevator 
come  up,  pause,  and  go  down  again,  he  went  out 
of  his  room  and  said  to  the  city  editor: 

"Mr.  Herbert,  don't  ever  let  that  man  Cleggett 
into  this  office  again.  He  is  off — off  mentally. 
He's  a  dangerous  man.  He's  a  homicidal  maniac. 
More'n  likely  he's  been  a  quiet,  steady  drinker  for 
years,  and  now  it's  begun  to  show  on  him." 

But  nothing  was  further  from  Cleggett  than  the 
wish  ever  to  go  into  the  Enterprise  office  again.  As 
he  left  the  elevator  on  the  ground  floor  he  stabbed 
the  astonished  elevator  boy  under  the  left  arm 
with  his  cane  as  a  bayonet,  cut  him  harmlessly 
over  the  head  with  his  cane  as  a  saber,  tossed  him 
a  dollar,  and  left  the  building  humming: 

"Oh,  the  Beau  Sabreur  of  the  Grande  Armee 
Was  the  Captain  Tarjeanterre !" 

It  is  thus,  with  a  single  twitch  of  her  playful 
fingers,  that  Fate  will  sometimes  pluck  from  a  man 
the  mask  that  has  obscured  his  real  identity  for 
many  years.  It  is  thus  that  Destiny  will  suddenly 
draw  a  bright  blade  from  a  rusty  scabbard ! 

9 


CHAPTER   II 
THE  ROOM  OF  ILLUSION 

THAT  part  of  Brooklyn  in  which  Cleggett 
lived  overlooks  a  wide  sweep  of  water 
where  the  East  River  merges  with  New 
York  Bay.  From  his  windows  he  could  gaze  out 
upon  the  bustling  harbor  craft  and  see  the  ships 
going  forth  to  the  great  mysterious  sea. 

He  walked  home  across  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and 
as  he  walked  he  still  hummed  tunes.  Occasionally, 
still  with  the  rapt  and  fatal  manner  which  had 
daunted  the  managing  editor,  he  would  pause  and 
flex  his  wrist,  and  then  suddenly  deliver  a  ferocious 
thrust  with  his  walking-stick. 

The  fifth  of  these  lunges  had  an  unexpected  re 
sult.  Cleggett  directed  it  toward  the  door  of  an 
unpainted  toolhouse,  a  temporary  structure  near 
one  of  the  immense  stone  pillars  from  which  the 
bridge  is  swung.  But,  as  he  lunged,  the  toolhouse 
door  opened,  and  a  policeman,  who  was  coming  out 
wiping  his  mouth  on  the  back  of  his  hand,  re- 

10 


The  Room  of  Illusion 


ceived  a  jab  in  the  pit  of  a  somewhat  protuberant 
stomach. 

The  officer  grunted  and  stepped  backward;  then 
he  came  on,  raising  his  night-stick. 

"Why,  it's— it's  McCarthy !"  exclaimed  Cleggett, 
who  had  also  sprung  back,  as  the  light  fell  on  the 
other's  face. 

"Mr.  Cleggett,  by  the  powers!"  said  the  officer, 
pausing  and  lowering  his  lifted  club.  "Are  ye 
soused,  man?  Or  is  it  your  way  of  sayin'  good 
avenin'  to  your  f rinds?" 

Cleggett  smiled.  He  had  first  known  McCarthy 
years  before  when  he  was  a  reporter,  and  more 
recently  had  renewed  the  acquaintance  in  his  walks 
across  the  bridge. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  there,  McCarthy,"  he 
said. 

"No?"  said  the  officer.  "And  who  were  ye 
jabbin'  at,  thin?" 

"I  was  just  limbering  up  my  wrist,"  said  Cleg 
gett. 

"  Tis  a  quare  thing  to  do,"  persisted  McCarthy, 
albeit  good-humoredly.  "And  now  I  mind  I've 
seen  ye  do  the  same  before,  Mr.  Cleggett.  You're 
foriver  grinnin'  to  yersilf  an'  makin'  thim  fun- 

ii 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ny  jabs  at  nothin'  as  ye  cross  the  bridge. 
Are  ye  subjict  to  stiffness  in  the  wrists,  Mr. 
Cleggett?" 

"Perhaps  it's  writer's  cramp,"  said  Cleggett, 
indulging  the  pleasant  humor  that  was  on  him. 
He  was  really  thinking  that,  with  $500,000 
of  his  own,  he  had  written  his  last  headline, 
edited  his  last  piece  of  copy,  sharpened  his  last 
pencil. 

"Writer's  cramp?  Is  it  so?"  mused  McCarthy. 
"Newspapers  is  great  things,  ain't  they  now  ?  And 
so's  writin'  and  readin'.  Gr-r-reat  things!  But  if 
ye'll  take  my  advice,  Mr.  Cleggett,  ye'll  kape  that 
writin'  and  readin'  within  bounds.  Too  much  av 
thim  rots  the  brains." 

"I'll  remember  that,"  said  Cleggett.  And  he 
playfully  jabbed  the  officer  again  as  he  turned 
away. 

"G'wan  wid  ye!"  protested  McCarthy.  "Ye're 
soused!  The  scent  av  it's  in  the  air.  If  I'm  com- 
pilled  to  run  yez  in  f'r  assaultin'  an  officer  ye'll 
get  the  cramps  out  av  thim  wrists  breakin'  stone, 
maybe.  Cr-r-r-amps,  indade!" 

Cramps,  indeed!  Oh,  Clement  J.  Cleggett,  you 
liar! 


The  Room  of  Illusion 


And  yet,  who  does  not  lie  in  order  to  veil  his 
inmost,  sweetest  thoughts  from  an  unsympathetic 
world? 

That  was  not  an  ordinary  jab  with  an  ordinary 
cane  which  Cleggett  had  directed  towards  the  tool- 
house  door.  It  was  a  thrust  en  carte;  the  thrust  of 
a  brilliant  swordsman;  the  thrust  of  a  master;  a 
terrible  thrust.  It  was  meant  for  as  pernicious  a 
bravo  as  ever  infested  the  pages  of  romantic  fic 
tion.  Cleggett  had  been  slaying  these  gentry  a 
dozen  times  a  day  for  years.  He  had  pinked  four 
of  them  on  the  way  across  the  bridge,  before 
McCarthy,  with  his  stomach  and  his  realism, 
stopped  the  lunge  intended  for  the  fifth.  But  this 
is  not  exactly  the  sort  of  thing  one  finds  it  easy 
to  confide  to  a  policeman,  be  he  ever  so  friendly 
a  policeman. 

Cleggett — Old  Clegg,  the  copyreader — Clegg,  the 
commonplace — C.  J.  Cleggett,  the  Brooklynite — • 
this  person  whom  young  reporters  conceived  of  as 
the  staid,  dry  prophet  of  the  dusty  Fact — was 
secretly  a  mighty  reservoir  of  unwritten,  unacted, 
unlived,  unspoken  romance.  He  ate  it,  he  drank  it, 
he  breathed  it,  he  dreamed  it.  The  usual  copy- 
reader,  when  he  closes  his  eyes  and  smiles  upon  a 

13 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

pleasant  inward  vision,  is  thinking  of  starting  a 
chicken-farm  in  New  Jersey.  But  Cleggett — with 
gray  sprinkled  in  his  hair,  sober  of  face  and  precise 
of  manner,  as  the  world  knew  him — lived  a  hidden 
life  which  was  one  long,  wild  adventure. 

Nobody  had  ever  suspected  it.  But  his  room 
might  have  given  to  the  discerning  a  clue  to  the 
real  man  behind  the  mask  which  he  assumed — 
which  he  had  been  forced  to  assume  in  order  to 
earn  a  living.  When  he  reached  the  apartment, 
a  few  minutes  after  his  encounter  on  the  bridge, 
and  switched  the  electric  light  on,  the  gleams 
fell  upon  an  astonishing  clutter  of  books  and 
arms.  .  .  . 

Stevenson,  cavalry  sabers,  W.  Clark  Russell, 
pistols,  and  Dumas ;  Jack  London,  poignards,  bowie 
knives,  Stanley  Weyman,  Captain  Marryat,  and 
Dumas;  sword  canes,  Scottish  claymores,  Cuban 
machetes,  Conan  Doyle,  Harrison  Ainsworth,  dress 
swords,  and  Dumas;  stilettos,  daggers,  hunting 
knives,  Fenimore  Cooper,  G.  P.  R.  James,  broad 
swords,  Dumas ;  Gustave  Aimard,  Rudyard  Kipling, 
dueling  swords,  Dumas;  F.  Du  Boisgobey,  Malay 
krises,  Walter  Scott,  stick  pistols,  scimitars, 
Anthony  Hope,  single  sticks,  foils,  Dumas;  jungles 

14 


The  Room  of  Illusion 


of  arms,  jumbles  of  books;  arms  of  all  makes  and 
periods;  arms  on  the  walls,  in  the  corners,  over  the 
fireplace,  leaning  against  the  bookshelves,  lying  in 
ambush  under  the  bed,  peeping  out  of  the  wardrobe, 
propping  the  windows  open,  serving  as  paper 
weights;  pictures,  warlike  and  romantic  prints  and 
engravings,  pinned  to  the  walls  with  daggers;  in 
the  wardrobe,  coats  and  hats  hanging  from  poig- 
nards  and  stilettos  thrust  into  the  wood  instead  of 
from  nails  or  hooks.  But  of  all  the  weapons  it 
was  the  rapiers,  of  all  the  books  it  was  Dumas, 
that  he  loved.  There  was  Dumas  in  French,  Dumas 
in  English,  Dumas  with  pictures,  Dumas  unillus- 
trated,  Dumas  in  cloth,  Dumas  in  leather,  Dumas  in 
boards,  Dumas  in  paper  covers.  Cleggett  had  been 
twenty  years  getting  these  arms  and  books  together  ; 
often  he  had  gone  without  a  dinner  in  order  to 
make  a  payment  on  some  blade  he  fancied.  And 
each  weapon  was  also  a  book  to  him;  he  sensed 
their  stories  as  he  handled  them;  he  felt  the  per 
sonalities  of  their  former  owners  stirring  in  him 
when  he  picked  them  up.  It  was  in  that  room 
that  he  dreamed;  which  is  to  say,  it  was  in  that 
room  that  he  lived  his  real  life. 

Cleggett  walked  over  to  his  writing  desk  and 
15 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

pulled  out  a  bulky  manuscript.  It  was  his  own 
work.  Is  it  necessary  to  hint  that  it  was  a  tale 
essentially  romantic  in  character? 

He  flung  it  into  the  grate  and  set  fire  to  it.  It 
represented  the  labor  of  two  years,  but  as  he 
watched  it  burn,  stirring  the  sheets  now  and  then 
so  the  flames  would  catch  them  more  readily,  he 
smiled,  unvisited  by  even  the  most  shadowy  second 
thought  of  regret. 

For  why  the  deuce  should  a  man  with  $500,000 
in  his  pocket  write  romances?  Why  should  any 
one  write  anything  who  is  free  to  live?  For  the 
first  time  in  his  existence  Cleggett  was  free. 

He  picked  up  a  sword.  It  was  one  of  his  favorite 
rapiers.  Sometimes  people  came  out  of  the  books — 
sometimes  shadowy  forms  came  back  to  claim  the 
weapons  that  had  been  theirs — and  Cleggett  fought 
them.  There  was  not  an  unscarred  piece  of  furni 
ture  in  the  place.  He  bent  the  flexible  blade  in 
his  hands,  tried  the  point  of  it,  formally  saluted, 
brought  the  weapon  to  parade,  dallied  with  his 
imaginary  opponent's  sword  for  an  instant.  .  .  . 

It  seemed  as  if  one  of  those  terrible,  but  bril 
liant,  duels,  with  which  that  room  was  so  familiar, 
"Was  about  to  be  enacted.  .  .  . 

16 


The  Room  of  Illusion 


But  he  laid  the  rapier  down.  After  all,  the 
rapier  is  scarcely  a  thing  of  this  century.  Cleg- 
gett,  for  the  first  time,  felt  a  little  impatient  with 
the  rapier.  It  is  all  very  well  to  dream  with  a 
rapier.  But  now,  he  was  free;  reality  was  before 
him;  the  world  of  actual  adventure  called.  He 
had  but  to  choose! 

He  considered.  He  tried  to  look  into  that  bright, 
adventurous  future.  Presently  he  went  to  the 
window,  and  gazed  out.  Tides  of  night  and  mys 
tery,  flooding  in  from  the  farther,  dark,  mysteri 
ous  ocean,  all  but  submerged  lower  Manhattan; 
high  and  beautiful  above  these  waves  of  shadow, 
triumphing  over  them  and  accentuating  them,  shone 
a  star  from  the  top  of  the  Wool  worth  building; 
flecks  of  light  indicated  the  noble  curve  of  that 
great  bridge  which  soars  like  a  song  in  stone  and 
steel  above  the  shifting  waters;  the  river  itself 
was  dotted  here  and  there  with  moving  lights;  it 
was  a  nocturne  waiting  for  its  Whistler;  here  sea 
and  city  met  in  glamour  and  beauty  and  illusion. 

But  it  was  not  the  city  which  called  to  Cleggett. 
It  was  the  sea.  A  breeze  blew  in  from  the  bay 
and  stirred  his  window  curtains;  it  was  salt  in 
his  nostrils.  .  .  . 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B, 


And,  staring  out  into  the  breathing  night,  he 
saw  a  succession  of  pictures.  .  .  . 

Stripped  to  a  pair  of  cotton  trousers,  with  a 
dripping  cutlass  in  one  hand  and  a  Colt's  revolver 
in  the  other,  an  adventurer  at  the  head  of  a  bunch 
of  dogs  as  desperate  as  himself  fought  his  way 
across  the  reeking  decks  of  a  Chinese  junk,  to  close 
in  single  combat  with  a  gigantic  one-eyed  pirate 
who  stood  by  the  helm  with  a  ring  of  dead  men 
about  him  and  a  great  two-handed  sword  up 
heaved.  .  .  .  This  adventurer  was — Clement  J. 
Cleggett!  .  .  . 

Through  the  phosphorescent  waters  of  a  summer 
sea,  reckless  of  cruising  sharks,  a  sailor's  clasp 
knife  in  his  teeth,  glided  noiselessly  a  strong 
swimmer;  he  reached  the  side  of  a  schooner  yacht 
from  which  rose  the  wild  cries  of  beauty  in  dis 
tress,  swarmed  aboard  with  a  muttered  prayer  that 
was  half  a  curse,  swept  the  water  from  his  eyes, 
and  with  pale,  stern  face  went  about  the  bloody 
business  of  a  hero.  .  .  .  Again,  this  adventurer 
was  Clement  J.  Cleggett! 

Cleggett  turned  from  the  window. 

"I'll  do  it,"  he  cried.     'Til  do  it!" 

He  grasped  a  cutlass. 

18 


The  Room  of  Illusion 


"Pirates!"  he  cried,  swinging  it  about  his  head. 
"That's  the  thing— pirates  and  the  China  Seas!" 

And  with  one  frightful  sweep  of  his  blade  he  dis 
emboweled  a  sofa  cushion;  the  second  blow  clove 
his  typewriting  machine  clean  to  the  tattoo  marks 
upon  its  breast;  the  third  decapitated  a  sectional 
bookcase. 

But  what  is  a  sectional  bookcase  to  a  man  with 
$500,000  in  his  pocket  and  the  Seven  Seas  before 
him? 


CHAPTER   III 
A  SCHOONER,  A  SKIPPER,  AND  A  SKULL 

IT  was  a  few  days  later,  when  a  goodly  number 
of  the  late  Uncle  Tom's  easily  negotiable 
securities  had  been  converted  into  cash,  and 
the  cash  deposited  in  the  bank,  that  Cleggett  bought 
the  Jasper  B. 

He  discovered  her  near  the  town  of  Fairport, 
Long  Island,  one  afternoon.  The  vessel  lay  in  one 
of  the  canals  which  reach  inward  from  the  Great 
South  Bay.  She  looked  as  if  she  might  have 
been  there  for  some  time.  Evidently,  at  one  period, 
the  Jasper  B.  had  played  a  part  in  some  catch-coin 
scheme  of  summer  entertainment;  a  scheme  that 
had  failed.  Little  trace  of  it  remained  except  a 
rotting  wooden  platform,  roofless  and  built  close  to 
the  canal,  and  a  gangway  arrangement  from  this 
platform  to  the  deck  of  the  vessel. 

The  Jasper  B.  had  seen  better  days ;  even  a  lands 
man  could  tell  that.  But  from  the  blunt  bows  to 
the  weather-scarred  stern,  on  which  the  name  was 

20 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

faintly  discernible,  the  hulk  had  an  air  about  it, 
the  air  of  something  that  has  lived ;  it  was  eloquent 
of  a  varied  and  interesting  past. 

And,  to  complete  the  picture,  there  sat  on  her 
deck  a  gnarled  and  brown  old  man.  He  smoked 
a  short  pipe  which  was  partially  hidden  in  a  tangle 
of  beard  that  had  once  been  yellowish  red  but  was 
now  streaked  with  dirty  white;  he  fished  earnestly 
without  apparent  result,  and  from  time  to  time  he 
spat  into  the  water.  Cleggett's  nimble  fancy  at 
once  put  rings  into  his  ears  and  dowered  him  with 
a  history. 

Cleggett  noticed,  as  he  walked  aboard  the  vessel, 
that  she  seemed  to  be  jammed  not  merely  against, 
but  into  the  bank  of  the  canal.  She  was  nearer 
the  shore  than  he  had  ever  seen  a  vessel  of  any 
sort.  Some  weeds  grew  in  soil  that  had  lodged 
upon  the  deck;  in  a  couple  of  places  they  sprang 
as  high  as  the  rail.  Weeds  grew  on  shore ;  in  fact, 
it  would  have  taken  a  better  nautical  authority  than 
Cleggett  to  tell  offhand  just  exactly  where  the  land 
ended  and  the  Jasper  B.  began.  She  seemed  to  be 
possessed  of  an  odd  stability;  although  the  tide  was 
receding  the  Jasper  B.  was  not  perceptibly  agitated 
by  the  motion  of  the  water.  Of  anchor,  or  moor- 

21 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ing  chains  or  cables  of  any  sort,  there  was  no  sign. 

The  brown  old  man — he  was  brown  not  only  as 
to  the  portions  of  his  skin  visible  through  his  hair 
and  whiskers,  but  also  as  to  coat  and  trousers 
and  worn  boots  and  cap  and  pipe  and  flannel  shirt — 
turned  around  as  Cleggett  stepped  aboard,  and 
stared  at  the  invader  with  a  shaggy-browed  in 
tensity  that  was  embarrassing.  It  occurred  to 
Cleggett  that  the  old  man  might  own  the  vessel 
and  make  a  home  of  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  am  intruding,"  ventured 
Cleggett,  politely,  "but  do  you  live  here?" 

The  brown  old  man  made  an  indeterminate  mo 
tion  of  his  head,  without  otherwise  replying  at 
once.  Then  he  took  a  cake  of  dark,  hard-looking 
tobacco  from  the  starboard  pocket  of  his  trousers 
and  a  clasp  knife  from  the  port  side.  He  shaved 
off  a  fresh  pipeful,  rolled  it  in  his  palms,  knocked 
the  old  ash  from  his  pipe,  refilled  and  relighted 
it,  all  with  the  utmost  deliberation.  Then  he  cut 
another  small  piece  of  tobacco  from  the  "plug" 
and  popped  it  into  his  mouth.  Cleggett  perceived 
with  surprise  that  he  smoked  and  chewed  tobacco 
at  the  same  time  As  he  thus  refreshed  himself 
he  glanced  from  ..  e  to  time  at  Cleggett  as  if 

22 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

unfavorably  impressed.  Finally  he  closed  his  knife 
with  a  click  and  suddenly  piped  out  in  a  high,  shrill 
voice : 

"No!    Do  you?" 

"I — er — do  I  what?"  It  had  taken  the  old  man 
so  long  to  answer  that  Cleggett  had  forgotten 
his  own  question,  and  the  shrill  fierceness  of  the 
voice  was  disconcerting. 

He  regarded  Cleggett  contemptuously,  spat  on 
the  deck,  and  then  demanded  truculently: 

"D'ye  want  to  buy  any  seed  potatoes?" 

"Why— er,  no,"  said  Cleggett. 

"Humph!"  said  the  brown  one,  with  the  air  of 
meaning  that  it  was  only  to  be  expected  of  an 
idiot  like  Cleggett  that  he  would  not  want  to  buy 
any  seed  potatoes.  But  after  a  further  embar 
rassing  silence  he  relented  enough  to  give  Cleggett 
another  chance. 

"You  want  some  seed  corn!"  he  announced 
rather  than  asked. 

"No.    I " 

"Tomato  plants!"  shrilled  the  brown  one,  as  if 
daring  him  to  deny  it. 

"No." 

He  turned  his  back  on  Cl/  tt,  as  if  he  had 
23 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

lost  interest,  and  began  to  wind  up  his  fishing  line 
on  a  squeaky  reel. 

"Who  owns  this  boat?"  Cleggett  touched  him 
on  the  elbow. 

"Thinkin'of  buyin'her?" 

"Perhaps.    Who  owns  her?" 

"What  would  you  do  with  her  ?" 

"I  might  fix  her  up  and  sail  her.  Who  owns 
her?" 

"She'll  take  a  sight  o'  fixin'." 

"No  doubt.     Who  did  you  say  owned  her?" 

The  old  man,  who  had  finished  with  the  rusty 
reel,  deigned  to  look  at  Cleggett  again. 

"Dunno  as  I  said." 

"But  who  does  own  her?" 

"She's  stuck  fast  in  the  mud  and  her  rudder's 
gone." 

"I  see  you  know  a  lot  about  ships,"  said  Cleggett, 
deferentially,  giving  up  the  attempt  to  find  out  who 
owned  her.  "I  picked  you  out  for  an  old  sailor 
the  minute  I  saw  you."  He  thought  he  detected  a 
kindlier  gleam  in  the  old  man's  eye  as  that  person 
listened  to  these  words. 

"The'  ain't  a  stick  in  her,"  said  the  ancient  fisher 
man.  "She's  got  no  wheel  and  she's  got  no, 

24 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

nothin'.  She  used  to  be  used  as  a  kind  of  a  barroom 
and  dancin'  platform  till  the  fellow  that  used  her 
for  such  went  out  o'  business." 

He  paused,  and  then  added: 

"What  might  your  name  be?" 

"Cleggett." 

He  appeared  to  reflect  on  the  name.  But  he 
said: 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me,  I'd  say  her  timbers 
is  sound." 

"Tell  me,"  said  Cleggett,  "was  she  a  deep-water 
ship?  Could  a  ship  like  her  sail  around  the  world, 
for  instance?  I  can  tell  that  you  know  all  about 
ships." 

Something  like  a  grin  of  gratified  vanity  began 
to  show  on  the  brown  one's  features.  He  leaned 
back  against  the  rail  and  looked  at  Cleggett  with 
the  dawn  of  approval  in  his  eyes. 

"My  name's  Abernethy,"  he  suddenly  volun 
teered.  "Isaiah  Abernethy.  The  fellow  that  owns 
her  is  Goldberg.  Abraham  Goldberg.  Real  estate 
man." 

Cleggett  began  to  get  an  insight  into  Mr.  Aber- 
nethy's  peculiar  ideas  concerning  conversation.  A 
native  spirit  of  independence  prevented  Mr.  Aber- 

25 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

nethy  from  dealing  with  an  interlocutor's  remarks 
in  the  sequence  that  seemed  to  be  desired  by  the 
interlocutor.  He  took  a  selection  of  utterances  into 
his  mind,  rolled  them  over  together,  and  replied 
in  accordance  with  some  esoteric  system  of  his 
own. 

" Where  is  Mr.  Goldberg's  office?"  asked  Cleggett. 

"You've  come  to  the  proper  party  to  get  set  right 
about  ships,'  said  Mr.  Abernethy,  complacently. 
"Either  you  was  sent  to  me  by  someone  that  knows 
I'm  the  proper  party  to  set  you  right  about  ships, 
or  else  you  got  an  eye  in  your  own  head  that  can 
recognize  a  man  that  comes  of  a  seafarin'  fambly." 

"You  are  an  old  sailor,  then?  Maybe  you  are 
an  old  skipper?  Perhaps  you're  one  of  the  retired 
Long  Island  sea  captains  we're  always  hearing  so 
much  about?" 

"So  fur  as  sailin'  her  around  the  world  is  con 
cerned,"  said  Mr.  Abernethy,  glancing  over  the 
hulk,  "if  she  was  fixed  up  she  could  be  sailed  any 
wheres — anywheres !" 

"What  would  you  call  her — a  schooner?" 

"This  here  Goldberg,"  said  Mr.  Abernethy,  "has 
his  office  over  town  right  acrost  from  the  railroad 
depot." 

26 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

And  with  that  he  put  his  fishing  pole  over  his 
shoulder  and  prepared  to  leave — a  tall,  strong-look 
ing  old  man  with  long  legs  and  knotty  wrists,  who 
moved  across  the  deck  with  surprising  spryness. 
At  the  gangplank  he  sang  out  without  turning  his 
head: 

"As  far  as  my  bein'  a  skipper's  concerned,  they's 
no  law  agin'  callin'  me  Cap'n  Abernethy  if  you  want 
to.  I  come  of  a  seafarin'  fambly." 

He  crossed  the  platform;  when  he  had  gone 
thirty  yards  farther  he  stopped,  turned  around,  and 
shouted : 

"Is  she  a  schooner,  hey?  You  want  to  know  is 
she  a  schooner?  If  you  was  askin'  me,  she  ain't 
no  thin'  now.  But  if  you  was  to  ask  me  again  I 
might  say  she  could  be  schooner-rigged.  Lots  of 
boats  is  schooner-rigged." 

There  are  affinities  between  atom  and  atom,  be 
tween  man  and  woman,  between  man  and  man. 
There  are  also  affinities  between  men  and  things — 
if  you  choose  to  call  a  ship,  which  has  a  spirit  of 
its  own,  merely  a  thing.  There  must  have  been 
this  affinity  between  Cleggett  and  the  Jasper  B. 
Only  an  unusual  person  would  have  thought  of  buy 
ing  her.  But  Cleggett  loved  her  at  first  sight. 

27 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Within  an  hour  after  he  had  first  seen  her  he  was 
in  Mr.  Abraham  Goldberg's  office. 

As  he  was  concluding  his  purchase — Mr.  Gold 
berg  having  phoned  Cleggett's  bankers — he  was 
surprised  to  discover  that  he  was  buying  about  half 
an  acre  of  Long  Island  real  estate  along  with  her. 
For  that  matter  he  had  thought  it  a  little  odd  in  the 
first  place  when  he  had  been  directed  to  a  real 
estate  agent  as  the  owner  of  the  craft.  But  as  he 
knew  very  little  about  business,  and  nothing  at  all 
about  ships,  he  assumed  that  perhaps  it  was  quite 
the  usual  thing  for  real  estate  dealers  to  buy  and 
sell  ships  abutting  on  the  coast  of  Long  Island. 

"I  had  only  intended  to  buy  the  vessel,"  said 
Cleggett.  "I  don't  know  that  I'll  be  able  to  use 
the  land." 

Mr.  Goldberg  looked  at  Cleggett  with  a  slight 
start,  as  if  he  were  not  sure  that  he  had  heard 
aright,  and  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  say  some 
thing.  But  nothing  came  of  it — not  just  then,  at 
least.  When  the  last  signature  had  been  written, 
and  Cleggett's  check  had  been  folded  by  Mr.  Gold 
berg's  plump,  be  jeweled  fingers  and  put  into  Mr. 
Goldberg's  pocketbook,  Mr.  Goldberg  remarked: 

"You  say  you  can't  use  the  ship?" 
28 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

"No;  the  land.  I'm  surprised  to  find  that  the 
land  goes  with  the  ship/* 

"Why,  it  doesn't,"  said  Mr.  Goldberg.  "It's 
the  ship  that  goes  with  the  land.  She  was  on 
the  land  when  I  bought  the  plot,  and  I  just  left 
her  there.  Nobody's  paid  any  attention  to  her  for 
years." 

The  words  "on  the  land"  grated  on  Cleggett. 

"You  mean  on  the  water,  don't  you  ?" 

"In  the  mud,  then,"  suggested  Mr.  Goldberg. 

"But  she'll  sail  all  right,"  said  Cleggett. 

"I  suppose  if  she  was  decorated  up  with  sails 
and  things  she'd  sail.  Figuring  on  sailing  her  any 
where  in  particular?" 

Subtly  irritated,  Cleggett  answered :  "Oh,  no,  no ! 
Not  anywhere  in  particular!" 

"Going  to  live  on  her  this  summer? — Outdoor 
sleeping  room,  and  all  that?" 

"I'm  thinking  of  it." 

"You  could  turn  her  into  a  house  boat  easy 
enough.  I  had  a  friend  who  turned  an  old  barge 
like  that  into  a  house  boat  and  had  a  lot  of  fun 
with  her." 

"Barge?"  Cleggett  rose  and  buttoned  his  coat; 
the  conversation  was  somehow  growing  more  and 

29 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

more  distasteful  to  him.  "You  wouldn't  call  the 
Jasper  B.  a  barge,  would  you?" 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  call  her  a  yacht,  would 
you?"  said  Mr.  Goldberg. 

"Perhaps  not,"  admitted  Cleggett,  "perhaps  not 
She's  more  like  a  bark  than  a  yacht." 

"A  bark  ?  I  dunno.  Always  thought  a  bark  was 
bigger.  A  scow's  more  her  size,  ain't  it?" 

"Scow?"  Cleggett  frowned.  The  Jasper  B.  a 
scow!  "You  mean  a  schooner,  don't  you?" 

"Schooner?"  Mr.  Goldberg  grinned  good-natur 
edly  at  his  departing  customer.  "A  kind  of  a 
schooner-scow,  huh?" 

"No,  sir,  a  schooner!"  said  Cleggett,  reddening, 
and  turning  in  the  doorway.  "Understand  me,  Mr. 
Goldberg,  a  schooner,  sir!  A  schooner!" 

And  standing  with  a  frown  on  his  face  until 
every  vestige  of  the  smile  had  died  from  Mr.  Gold 
berg's  lips,  Cleggett  repeated  once  more:  "A 
schooner,  Mr.  Goldberg!" 

"Yes,  sir — there's  no  doubt  of  it — a  schooner, 
Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  Mr.  Goldberg,  turning  pale 
and  backing  away  from  the  door. 

The  ordinary  man  inspects  a  house  or  a  horse 
first  and  buys  it,  or  fails  to  buy  it,  afterward;  but 

30 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

genius  scorns  conventions;  Cleggett  was  not  an 
ordinary  man;  he  often  moved  straight  towards 
his  object  by  inspiration ;  great  poets  and  great  ad 
venturers  share  this  faculty;  Cleggett  paid  for  the 
Jasper  B.  first  and  went  back  to  inspect  his  pur 
chase  later. 

The  vessel  lay  about  two  miles  from  the  center  of 
Fairport.  He  could  get  within  half  a  mile  of  it 
by  trolley.  Nevertheless,  when  he  reached  the 
Jasper  B.  again  after  leaving  Mr.  Goldberg  it  was 
getting  along  towards  dusk. 

He  first  entered  the  cabin.  It  was  of  a  good 
size  and  divided  into  several  compartments.  But 
it  was  in  a  state  of  dilapidation  and  littered  with 
a  jumble  of  odds  and  ends  which  looked  like  the 
ruins  of  a  barroom.  As  he  turned  to  ascend  to  the 
deck  again,  after  possibly  five  minutes,  intending 
to  take  a  look  at  the  forecastle  next,  he  heard  the 
sound  of  a  motor. 

Looking  out  of  the  cabin  he  saw  a  taxicab  ap 
proaching  the  boat  from  the  direction  of  Fairport. 
It  was  a  large  machine,  but  it  was  overloaded 
with  seven  or  eight  men.  It  stopped  within  twenty 
yards  of  the  vessel,  and  two  men  got  out,  one  of 
them  evidently  a  person  who  imposed  some  sort  of 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

leadership  on  the  rest  of  the  party.  This  was  a 
tall  fellow,  with  a  slouching  gait  and  round 
shoulders.  And  yet,  to  judge  from  his  movements, 
he  was  both  quick  and  powerful.  The  other  was 
a  short,  stout  man  with  a  commonplace,  broad  red 
face  and  flaxen  hair.  The  two  stood  for  a  moment 
in  colloquy  in  the  road  that  led  from  Fairport 
proper  to  the  bayside,  passing  near  the  Jasper  B.f 
and  Cleggett  heard  the  shorter  of  the  two  men  say : 

"I'm  sure  I  saw  somebody  aboard  of  her." 

"How  long  ago,  Heinrich?"  asked  the  tall  man. 

"An  hour  or  so,"  said  Heinrich. 

"It  was  old  man  Abernethy;  he's  harmless,"  said 
the  tall  fellow.  "He's  the  only  person  that's  been 
aboard  her  in  years." 

"There  was  someone  else,"  persisted  Heinrich. 
"Someone  who  was  talking  to  Abernethy." 

The  tall  man  mumbled  something  about  having 
been  a  fool  not  to  buy  her  before  this;  Cleggett 
did  not  catch  all  of  the  remark.  Then  the  tall 
fellow  said: 

"We'll  go  aboard,  Heinrich,  and  take  a  look 
around." 

With  that  they  advanced  towards  the  vessel. 
Cleggett  stepped  on  deck  from  the  cabin  com- 

32 


A  Schooner j  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

panionway,  and  both  men  stopped  short  at  the 
sight  of  him,  Heinrich  obviously  a  trifle  confused, 
but  the  other  one  in  no  wise  abashed.  He  made 
no  attempt,  this  tall  fellow,  to  give  the  situation 
a  casual  turn.  What  he  did  was  to  stand  and  stare 
at  Cleggett,  candidly,  and  with  more  than  a  touch 
of  insolence,  as  if  trying  to  beat  down  Cleggett's 
gaze. 

Cleggett,  staring  in  his  turn,  perceived  that  the 
tall  man,  ungainly  as  he  was,  affected  a  bizarre 
individualism  in  the  matter  of  dress.  His  cloth 
ing  cried  out,  rather  than  suggested,  that  it  was 
expensive.  His  feet  were  cased  in  button  shoes 
with  fancy  tops;  his  waistcoat,  cut  in  the  extreme 
of  style,  revealed  that  little  strip  of  white  which 
falsely  advertises  a  second  waistcoat  beneath,  but 
in  his  case  the  strip  was  too  broad.  There  were 
diamonds  on  the  fingers  of  both  powerful  hands. 
But  the  thing  that  grated  particularly  upon  Cleg 
gett  was  the  character  of  the  man's  scarfpin.  It 
was  by  far  the  largest  ornament  of  the  sort  that 
Cleggett  had  ever  seen ;  he  was  near  enough  to  the 
fellow  to  make  out  that  it  had  been  carved  from  a 
piece  of  solid  ivory  in  the  likeness  of  a  skull. 
In  the  eyeholes  of  the  skull  two  opals  flamed  with 

33 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

an  evil  levin.  The  man  suggested  to  Cleggett,  at 
first  glance,  a  bartender  who  had  come  into  money, 
or  a  drayman  who  had  been  promoted  to  an  im 
portant  office  in  a  labor  union  and  was  spending  the 
most  of  a  considerable  salary  on  his  person.  And 
yet  his  face,  more  closely  observed,  somehow  gave 
the  lie  to  his  clothes,  for  it  was  not  lacking  in 
the  signs  of  intelligence.  In  spite  of  his  taste, 
or  rather  lack  of  taste,  there  was  no  hint  of 
weakness  in  his  physiognomy.  His  features  were 
harsh,  bold,  predatory;  a  slightly  yellowish  tinge 
about  the  temples  and  cheek  bones,  suggestive 
of  the  ivory  ornament,  proclaimed  a  bilious  tem 
perament. 

Cleggett,  both  puzzled  and  nettled  by  the  man's 
persistent  gaze,  advanced  towards  him  across  the 
deck  of  the  Jasper  B.  and  down  the  gangplank, 
hand  on  hip,  and  called  out  sharply: 

"Well,  my  friend,  you  will  know  me  the  next 
time  you  see  me!" 

The  tall  man  turned  without  a  word  and  walked 
back  to  the  taxicab,  the  occupants  of  which  had 
watched  this  singular  duel  of  looks  in  silence.  In 
the  act  of  getting  into  the  machine  he  faced  about 
again  and  said,  with  a  lift  of  the  lip  that  showed 

34 


A  Schooner,  a  Skipper,  and  a  Skull 

two  long,  protruding  canine  teeth  of  an  almost 
saffron  hue: 

"I  will  know  you  again." 

He  spoke  with  a  kind  of  cold  hostility  that  gave 
his  words  all  the  effect  of  a  threat.  Cleggett  felt 
the  blood  leap  faster  through  his  veins;  he  tingled 
with  a  fierce,  illogical  desire  to  strike  the  fellow 
on  the  mouth;  his  soul  stirred  with  a  premonition 
of  conflict,  and  the  desire  for  it.  And  yet,  on  the 
surface  of  things  at  least,  the  man  had  been  noth 
ing  more  than  rude;  as  Cleggett  watched  the  ma 
chine  make  off  towards  an  isolated  road  house  on 
the  bayside  he  wondered  at  the  quick  intensity  of 
his  own  antipathy.  Unconsciously  he  flexed  his 
wrist  in  his  characteristic  gesture.  Scarcely  know 
ing  that  he  spoke,  he  murmured : 

"That  man  gets  on  my  nerves." 

That  man  was  destined  to  do  something  more 
than  get  on  Cleggett's  nerves  before  the  adventures 
of  the  Jasper  B.  were  ended. 


CHAPTER    IV 
A  BAD  MAN  TO  CROSS 

THE  isolated  road  house  on  the  bay  was  a 
nondescript,  jumbled,  dilapidated-looking 
assemblage  of  structures,  rather  than  one 
house.  It  was  known  simply  as  Morris's.  It  stood 
a  few  hundred  yards  west  of  the  end  of  the  canal 
which  opened  into  the  bay  and  was  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  Jasper  B. 

The  canal  itself  was  broad,  straight,  low-banked, 
and  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  length.  The 
town  had  thrown  out  a  few  ranks  of  cottages  in  the 
direction  of  the  canal.  But  these  were  all  summer 
bungalows,  occupied  only  from  June  until  the  mid 
dle  of  September.  The  solider  and  more  permanent 
part  of  Fairport  was  well  withdrawn  from  the 
sandy,  sedgy  stretches  that  bordered  on  tidewater. 

At  the  north  and  inland  terminus  of  the  quiet 
strip  of  water  in  which  the  Jasper  B.  reposed  was 
a  collection  of  buildings  including  bathhouses,  a 
boathouse,  and  a  sort  of  shed  where  "soft  drinks" 

36 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


and  sea  food  were  served  during  the  bathing  sea 
son.  This  place  was  known  as  Parker's  Beach 
and  was  open  only  during  the  summer. 

Morris's  was  of  quite  a  different  character  from 
Parker's  Beach.  One  could  bathe  at  Morris's,  but 
the  beach  near  by  was  not  particularly  good.  One 
could  hire  boats  there  and  buy  bait  for  a  fishing 
trip.  In  one  of  its  phases  it  made  some  pretensions 
to  being  a  summer  hotel.  It  had  an  extensive  bar 
room.  There  was  a  dancing  floor,  none  too  smooth. 
There  were  long  verandahs  on  three  sides.  That  on 
the  south  side  was  built  on  piles;  people  ate  and 
drank  there  in  the  summer;  beneath  it  the  water 
swished  and  gurgled  when  the  tide  was  in. 

The  townspeople  of  Fairport,  or  the  more  re 
spectable  ones,  kept  away  from  Morris's,  summer 
and  winter.  Summer  transients,  inhabitants  of  the 
bungalows  during  the  bathing  season,  patronized 
the  place.  But  most  of  the  patronage  at  all  sea 
sons  seemed  to  consist  of  automobile  parties  from 
the  city;  people  apparently  drawn  from  all  classes, 
or  eluding  definite  classification  entirely.  In  the 
bleakest  season  there  was  always  a  little  stir  of 
dubious  activity  about  Morris's.  In  the  summer 
it  impressed  you  with  its  look  of  cheapness.  In 

37 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  winter,  squatted  by  the  cold  water  amidst  its 
huddle  of  unpainted  outhouses,  at  the  end  of  a 
stretch  of  desolate  beach,  the  fancy  gave  Morris's 
a  touch  of  the  sinister. 

Cleggett  was  anxious  to  get  the  Jasper  B.  into 
seaworthy  condition  as  soon  as  possible.  It  oc 
curred  to  him  that  the  employment  of  expert  advice 
should  be  his  first  step,  and  early  the  next  morning 
he  hired  Captain  Abernethy.  That  descendant  of  a 
seafaring  family,  though  he  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  offer  objections  that  had  to  be  overcome 
with  a  great  show  of  respect,  was  really  over 
joyed  at  the  commission.  He  left  his  own  cottage 
a  mile  or  so  away  and  took  up  his  abode  in  the 
forecastle  at  once.  By  nine  o'clock  that  morning 
Cleggett  had  a  force  of  workmen  renovating  both 
cabin  and  forecastle,  putting  the  cook's  galley  into 
working  order,  and  cleansing  the  decks  of  soil  and 
sand.  That  night  Cleggett  spent  on  the  vessel,  with 
Captain  Abernethy. 

By  Saturday  of  the  same  week — Cleggett  had 
bought  the  vessel  on  Wednesday — he  was  able  to 
take  up  his  abode  in  the  cabin  with  his  books  and 
arms  about  him.  To  his  library  he  had  added  a 
treatise  on  navigation.  And,  reflecting  that  his 

38 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


firearms  were  worthless,  considered  as  modern 
weapons,  he  also  purchased  a  score  of  .44  caliber 
Colt's  revolvers  and  automatic  pistols  of  the  latest 
pattern,  and  a  dozen  magazine  rifles. 

He  brought  on  board  at  the  same  time,  for  cook 
and  cabin  boy,  a  Japanese  lad,  who  said  he  was  a 
sailor,  and  who  called  himself  Yoshahira  Kuroki, 
and  a  Greek,  George  Stefanopolous. 

This  latter  was  a  handsome,  rather  burly  fellow 
of  about  thirty,  a  man  with  a  kindling  eye  and  a 
habit  of  boasting  of  his  ancestors.  Among  them, 
he  declared,  was  Leonidas,  the  hero  of  Thermopy 
lae.  George  admitted  he  was  not  a  sailor,  but  pro 
fessed  a  willingness  to  learn,  and  looked  so  capable, 
as  he  squared  his  bulky  shoulders  and  twisted  his 
fine  black  mustache,  that  Cleggett  engaged  him, 
taking  him  immediately  from  the  dairy  lunch  room 
in  which  he  had  been  employed.  George's  idea 
was  to  work  his  way  back  to  Greece,  he  said,  on 
the  Jasper  B.  If  she  did  not  sail  for  Greece  for 
some  time,  George  was  willing  to  wait;  he  was 
patient;  sometime,  no  doubt,  she  would  touch  the 
shores  of  Greece. 

The  hold  of  the  Jasper  B.  Cleggett  and  Captain 
Abernethy  found  to  be  in  a  chaotic  state.  Casks, 

39 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

barrels,  empty  bottles  by  the  hundred,  ruins  of 
benches,  tables,  chairs,  old  nondescript  pieces  of 
planking,  broken  crates  and  boxes,  were  flung  to 
gether  there  in  moldering  confusion.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  after  the  scheme  of  using  the  Jasper  B/s 
hulk  as  one  of  the  attractions  of  a  pleasure  resort 
had  failed,  all  the  debris  of  the  failure  had  simply 
been  thrown  pellmell  into  the  hold.  Cleggett  and 
Captain  Abernethy  decided  that  the  vessel,  which 
was  stepped  for  two  masts,  should  be  rigged  as  a 
schooner.  The  Captain  was  soon  busy  securing 
estimates  on  the  amount  of  work  that  would  have 
to  be  done,*and  the  cost  of  it.  The  pile  of  rubbish 
in  the  hold,  which  filled  it  to  such  an  extent  that 
Cleggett  gave  up  the  attempt  to  examine  it,  was  to 
be  removed  by  the  same  contractor  who  put  in  the 
sticks. 

All  the  activity  on  board  and  about  the  Jasper  B. 
had  not  gone  on  without  attracting  the  attention  of 
Morris's.  Cleggett  noticed  that  there  was  usually 
someone  in  the  neighborhood  of  that  dubious  re 
sort  cocking  an  eye  in  the  direction  of  the  vessel. 
Indeed,  the  interest  became  so  pronounced,  and 
seemed  of  a  quality  so  different  from  ordinary 
frank  rustic  curiosity,  that  it  looked  very  like  es- 

40 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


pionage.  It  had  struck  Cleggett  that  Morris's 
seemed  at  all  times  to  have  more  than  its  share 
of  idlers  and  hangers-on;  men  who  appeared  to 
make  the  place  their  headquarters  and  were  not  to 
be  confused  with  the  occasional  off-season  parties 
from  the  city. 

On  Sunday  morning  Cleggett  was  awakened  by 
Captain  Abernethy,  who  announced: 

"Strange  craft  lookin'  us  over  mighty  close,  sir." 

"A  strange  craft?  Where  is  she?"  Cleggett  was 
instantly  alert. 

"She's  a  house  boat,  if  you  was  to  ask  me,"  said 
the  brown  old  man — in  a  new  brown  suit  and 
with  his  whiskers  newly  trimmed  he  gave  the  im 
pression  of  having  been  overhauled  and  freshly 
painted. 

"Where  is  she?"  repeated  Cleggett,  beginning  to 
get  into  his  clothes. 

"She  must  'a'  sneaked  up  an'  anchored  mighty 
early  this  mornin',"  pursued  Cap'n  Abernethy,  true 
to  his  conversational  principles. 

"Is  she  in  the  bay  or  in  the  canal?" 

"She  looks  like  a  mighty  toney  kind  o'  vessel," 
said  Cap'n  Abernethy.  "If  I  was  to  make  a  guess 
I'd  say  she  was  one  of  them  craft  that  sails  herself 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

along  when  she  wants  to  with  one  of  these  new 
fangled  gasoline  engines." 

"She  wasn't  towed  here  then?"  Cleggett  gave 
up  the  attempt  to  learn  from  the  Captain  just 
where  the  house  boat  was. 

"She  lies  in  the  canal,"  said  the  Cap'n.  Hav 
ing  established  the  point  that  he  could  not  be 
forced  to  tell  where  she  lay,  he  volunteered  the  in 
formation  as  a  personal  favor  from  one  gentle 
man  to  another.  "She  lies  ahead  of  us  in  the 
canal,  a  p'int  or  so  off  our  port  bow,  I  should  say. 
And  if  you  was  to  ask  me  I'd  say  she  wasn't  layin' 
there  for  any  good  purpose." 

"What  do  you  think  she's  up  to?  What  makes 
you  suspicious  of  her?" 

"No,  sir,  she  wasn't  towed  in,"  said  Cap'n 
Abernethy,  "or  I'd  'a'  heard  a  tug  towin'  her. 
Comin'  of  a  sea  far  in'  fambly  I'm  a  light  sleeper 
by  nature." 

Cleggett  finished  dressing  and  went  on  deck. 
Sure  enough,  towards  the  south  end  of  the  canal, 
three  or  four  hundred  yards  south  of  the  Jasper  B., 
and  about  the  same  distance  east  of  Morris's,  was 
anchored  a  house  boat.  She  was  painted  a  slaty 
gray  color.  As  Cleggett  looked  at  her  a  man 

42 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


stepped  up  on  the  deck,  and,  putting  a  binocular 
glass  to  his  eye,  began  to  study  the  Jasper  B.  After 
a  few  minutes  of  steady  scrutiny  this  person  turned 
his  attention  to  Morris's. 

Looking  towards  Morris's  himself  Cleggett  saw 
a  man  standing  on  the  east  verandah  of  that  resort 
intently  scanning  the  house  boat  through  a  glass. 
Cleggett  went  into  the  cabin  and  got  his  own  glass. 

Presently  the  man  on  Morris's  verandah  and  the 
man  of  the  house  boat  ceased  to  scrutinize  each 
other  and  both  turned  their  glasses  upon  the 
Jasper  B.  But  the  moment  they  perceived  that 
Cleggett  was  provided  with  a  glass  each  turned 
hastily  and  entered,  the  one  Morris's  place,  and 
the  other  the  cabin  of  the  house  boat.  But  Cleggett 
had  already  recognized  the  man  at  Morris's  as  the 
stoop-shouldered  man  of  tall  stature  and  fanciful 
dress  who  had  tried  to  stare  him  down  some  days 
before. 

As  for  the  man  on  the  house  boat  (which,  as 
Cleggett  had  made  out,  was  named  the  Annabel 
Lee),  there  was  something  vaguely  familiar  about 
his  general  appearance  which  puzzled  and  tantalized 
our  hero. 

As  the  morning  wore  on  Cleggett  became  cer- 
43 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

tain  that  the  Jasper  B.  was  closely  watched  by  both 
the  Annabel  Lee  and  Morris's,  although  the  watch 
ers  avoided  showing  themselves  plainly.  A  slightly 
agitated  blind  at  a  second  story  window  over  the 
verandah  showed  him  where  the  tall  man  or  one 
of  his  associates  gazed  out  from  Morris's;  and 
from  a  porthole  of  the  Annabel  Lee  he  could  see 
a  glass  thrust  forth  from  time  to  time.  It  was 
evident  to  him  that  the  Annabel  Lee  and  Morris's 
were  suspicious  of  each  other,  and  that  both  sus 
pected  the  Jasper  B.  But  of  what  did  they  suspect 
Cleggett  ?  What  intention  did  they  impute  to  him  ? 
He  could  only  wonder. 

Through  the  entire  morning  he  was  conscious  of 
the  continuance  of  this  watch.  He  thought  it 
ceased  about  luncheon  time ;  but  at  two  in  the  after 
noon  he  was  certain  that,  if  so,  it  had  been  re 
sumed.  Cleggett,  innocent  and  honorable,  began 
to  get  impatient  of  this  persistent  scrutiny.  And 
in  spite  of  his  courage  a  vague  uneasiness  began  to 
possess  him.  Towards  the  end  of  the  afternoon 
he  called  his  little  company  aft  and  spoke  to  them. 

"My  men,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  like  the  attitude 
of  our  neighbors.  To  put  it  briefly,  there  may  be 
squalls  ahead  of  the  Jasper  B.  This  is  a  wild  and 

44 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


desolate  coast,  comparatively  speaking.  Strange 
things  have  happened  to  innocent  people  before  this 
along  the  shores  of  Long  Island.  It  is  well  to  be 
prepared.  I  intend  to  serve  out  to  each  of  you 
two  hundred  cartridges  and  a  .44  caliber  Colt's. 
In  case  of  an  attempt  to  board,  you  may  find  these 
cutlasses  handy. 

"Cap'n  Abernethy,  in  all  nautical  matters  you 
will  still  be  in  command  of  the  ship,  but  in  case  of 
a  military  demonstration,  all  of  you  will  look  to 
me  for  leadership.  You  may  go  now  and  rig  up 
a  jury  mast  and  bend  the  American  colors  to  the 
peak — and  in  case  of  blows,  may  God  defend  the 
right!  I  know  I  do  not  need  to  exhort  you  to 
do  your  duty!" 

As  Cleggett  spoke  the  spirit  which  animated  him 
seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  his  listeners. 
Their  eyes  kindled  and  the  keen  joy  that  gallant 
men  always  feel  in  the  anticipation  of  conflict 
flushed  their  faces. 

"I  am  a  son  of  Leonidas,"  said  George  Stefano- 
polous,  proudly.  And  he  secreted  not  merely  one, 
but  two,  of  Cleggett's  daggers  about  his  body,  in 
addition  to  the  revolver  given  him.  As  George 
had  already  possessed  a  dagger  or  two  and  an 

45 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

automatic  pistol,  it  was  now  almost  impossible  for 
him  to  lay  his  hand  casually  on  any  part  of  his 
person  without  its  coming  into  contact  with  a  deadly 
weapon  ready  for  instant  use.  Cap'n  Abernethy 
picked  up  a  cutlass,  "hefted"  it  thoughtfully,  rolled 
his  sleeve  back  upon  a  lean  and  sinewy  old  arm  that 
was  tanned  until  it  looked  like  a  piece  of  weathered 
oak,  spat  upon  his  hand  and  whirled  the  weapon 
till  it  whistled  in  the  air.  "I  come  of  a  seafarin' 
fambly,"  said  the  Cap'n,  sententiously. 

As  for  Kuroki,  he  said  nothing.  He  was  not 
given  to  speech  at  any  time.  But  he  picked  up  a 
Malay  kris  and  ran  his  thumb  along  the  edge  of 
it  critically  like  a  man  to  whom  such  a  weapon  is 
not  altogether  unfamiliar.  A  pleased  smile  stole 
over  his  face;  he  handled  the  wicked  knife  almost 
affectionately;  he  put  it  down  with  a  little  loving 
pat. 

"Brave  boys,"  murmured  Cleggett,  as  he  watched 
them.  He  smiled,  but  at  the  same  time  something 
like  a  tear  blurred  his  eloquent  and  magnetic  eye 
for  a  moment.  "Brave  boys,"  he  murmured,  "we 
were  made  for  each  other!" 

The  display  of  the  American  flag  by  the  Jasper 
B.  had  an  effect  that  could  not  have  been  foreseen, 

46 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


Almost  immediately  the  Annabel  Lee  herself 
flung  an  exactly  similar  American  flag  to  the  breeze. 
But  a  strange  thing  happened  at  Morris's.  An 
American  flag  was  first  hung  from  an  upper  win 
dow  over  the  east  verandah.  Then,  after  a  mo 
ment,  it  was  withdrawn.  Then  a  red  flag  was  put 
out.  But  almost  immediately  Cleggett  saw  a  man 
rip  the  red  flag  from  its  fastenings  and  fling  it  to 
the  ground. 

Cleggett,  resorting  to  his  glass,  perceived  that 
it  was  the  tall  man  with  the  stoop  shoulders  and 
incongruous  clothing  who  had  torn  down  the  red 
flag.  He  was  now  in  violent  altercation  with  the 
man  who  had  hung  it  out — the  fellow  whom  he 
had  called  Heinrich  some  days  before. 

As  Cleggett  watched,  the  two  men  came  to 
blows;  then  they  clinched  and  struggled,  swaying 
back  and  forth  within  the  open  window,  like  a 
moving  picture  in  a  frame.  Suddenly  the  tall  fel 
low  seemed  to  get  the  upper  hand;  exerting  all  his 
strength,  he  bent  the  other  backward  over  the 
window  sill.  The  two  contending  figures  writhed 
desperately  a  moment  and  then  the  tall  man  shifted 
one  powerful,  sinewy  hand  to  Heinrich's  throat. 

The  binoculars  brought  the  thing  so  near  to 
47 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  touch  the 
contorted  faces;  he  could  see  the  tall  man's  neck 
muscles  work  as  if  that  person  were  panting;  he 
could  see  the  signs  of  suffocation  in  Heinrich's 
countenance.  The  fact  that  he  saw  so  plainly  and 
yet  could  hear  no  sound  of  the  struggle  somehow 
added  to  its  horror. 

All  at  once  the  tall  man  put  his  knee  upon  the 
other's  chest,  and  flung  his  weight  upon  Heinrich 
with  a  vehement  spring.  Then  he  tumbled  Hein 
rich  out  of  the  window  onto  the  roof  of  the  veran 
dah.  He  stepped  out  of  the  window  himself,  picked 
Heinrich  up  with  an  ease  that  testified  to  his  im 
mense  strength,  and  flung  him  over  the  edge  of 
the  verandah  onto  the  ground.  A  few  moments 
later  a  couple  of  men  ran  out  from  Morris's,  busied 
themselves  about  reviving  the  fellow,  and  helped 
him  into  the  house.  If  Heinrich  was  not  badly  in 
jured,  certainly  all  the  fight  had  been  taken  out  of 
him  for  one  day. 

With  Heinrich  thus  disposed  of,  the  tall  man 
turned  composedly  to  the  task  of  putting  out  the 
American  flag  again.  Through  the  glass  Cleggett 
perceived  that  his  face  was  twisted  by  a  peculiar 
smile ;  a  smile  of  joyous  malevolence. 

48 


A  Bad  Man  to  Cross 


"A  bad  man  to  cross,  that  tall  man,"  said  Cleg- 
gett,  musingly.  And  indeed,  his  violence  with 
Heinrich  had  seemed  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
apparent  grounds  of  the  quarrel;  for  it  was  evi 
dent  to  Cleggett  that  Heinrich  and  the  tall  man 
had  differed  merely  about  the  policy  of  displaying 
the  red  flag.  "A  man  determined  to  have  his  way," 

mused  Cleggett.     "If  he  and  I  should  meet " 

Cleggett  did  not  finish  the  sentence  in  words,  but 
his  hand  closed  over  the  butt  of  his  revolver. 

His  musing  was  interrupted  by  the  noise  of  an 
approaching  automobile.  Turning,  he  saw  a  vehi 
cle,  the  rather  long  body  of  which  was  covered  so 
that  it  resembled  a  merchant's  delivery  wagon, 
coming  along  the  road  from  Fairport. 

It  stopped  opposite  the  Jasper  B.,  and  from  the 
seat  beside  the  driver  leaped  lightly  the  most  beauti 
ful  woman  Qeggett  had  ever  seen,  and  walked 
hesitatingly  but  gracefully  towards  him. 

She  was  agitated.  She  was,  in  fact,  sobbing; 
and  a  Pomeranian  dog  which  she  carried  in  her 
arms  was  whimpering  excitedly  as  if  in  sympathy 
with  its  mistress.  Cleggett,  soul  of  chivalry  that 
he  was,  born  cavalier  of  beauty  in  distress,  removed 
his  hat  and  advanced  to  meet  her. 

49 


CHAPTER    V 
BEAUTY  IN  DISTRESS 

CAN  you  tell  me  where  I  can  get  some  ice? 
Can  you  sell  me  some  ice  ?"  cried  the  lady 
excitedly,  when  she  was  still  some  yards 
distant  from  Cleggett. 

"Ice?"  The  request  was  so  unusual  that  Cleg 
gett  was  not  certain  that  he  had  understood. 

"Yes,  ice!  Ice!"  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
genuine  character  of  her  eagerness;  if  she  had  been 
begging  for  her  life  she  could  not  have  been  more 
in  earnest.  "Don't  tell  me  that  you  have  none  on 
your  boat.  Don't  tell  me  that!  Don't  tell  me 
that!" 

And  suddenly,  like  a  woman  who  has  borne  all 
that  she  can  bear,  she  burst  undisguisedly  into  a 
paroxysm  of  weeping.  Cleggett,  stirred  by  her 
beauty  and  her  trouble,  stepped  nearer  to  her,  for 
she  swayed  with  her  emotion  as  if  she  were  about 
to  fall.  Impulsively  she  put  a  hand  on  his  arm, 
and  the  Pomeranian,  dropped  unceremoniously  to 

5P 


Beauty  in  Distress 


the  ground,  sprang  at  Cleggett  snarling  and  snap 
ping  as  if  sure  he  were  the  author  of  the  lady's 
misfortunes. 

"You  will  think  I  am  mad,'*  said  the  lady,  en 
deavoring  to  control  her  tears,  "but  I  must  have 
ice.  Don't  tell  me  that  you  have  no  ice !" 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Cleggett,  unconsciously 
clasping,  in  his  anxiety  to  reassure  her,  the  hand 
that  she  had  laid  upon  his  arm,  "I  have  ice — you 
shall  have  all  the  ice  you  want!" 

"Oh,"  she  murmured,  leaning  towards  him,  "you 
cannot  know " 

But  the  rest  was  lost  in  an  incoherent  babble, 
and  with  a  deep  sigh  she  fell  lax  into  Cleggett's 
arms.  The  reaction  from  despair  had  been  too 
much  for  her;  it  had  come  too  suddenly;  at  the 
first  word  of  reassurance,  at  the  first  ray  of  dawn 
ing  hope,  she  had  fainted.  High-strung  natures, 
intrepid  in  the  face  of  danger,  are  apt  to  such  col 
lapses  in  the  moment  of  deliverance;  and,  what 
ever  the  nature  of  the  lady's  trouble,  Cleggett 
gained  from  her  swoon  a  sharp  sense  of  its  in 
tensity. 

Cleggett  was  not  used  to  having  beautiful  women 
faint  and  fall  into  his  arms,  and  he  was  too  much 

51 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

of  a  gentleman  to  hold  one  there  a  single  moment 
longer  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  He  turned 
his  head  rather  helplessly  towards  the  vehicle  in 
which  the  lady  had  arrived.  To  his  consternation 
and  surprise  it  had  turned  around  and  the  chauf 
feur  was  in  the  act  of  starting  back  towards  Fair- 
port.  But  he  had  left  behind  him  a  large  zinc 
bucket  with  a  cover  on  it,  a  long  unpainted,  oblong 
box,  and  two  steamer  trunks;  on  the  oblong  box 
sat  a  short,  squat  young  man  in  an  attitude  of  deep 
dejection. 

"Hi  there!  Stop!"  cried  Cleggett  to  the  chauf 
feur..  That  person  stopped  his  machine.  He  did 
more.  He  arose  in  the  seat,  applied  his  thumb 
to  his  nose,  and  vigorously  and  vivaciously 
waggled  his  outspread  fingers  at  Cleggett  in  a  ges 
ture,  derisive  and  inelegant,  that  is  older  than 
the  pyramids.  Then  he  started  his  machine 
again  and  made  all  speed  in  the  direction  of 
Fairport. 

"I  say,  you,  come  here!"  Cleggett  called  to  the 
squat  young  man.  "Can't  you  see  that  the  lady's 
fainted?" 

The  squat  young  man,  thus  exhorted,  sadly  ap 
proached. 

52 


Beauty  in  Distress 


"Can't  you  see  the  lady  has  fainted?"  repeated 
Cleggett. 

"Skoits  often  does,"  said  the  squat  young  man, 
looking  over  the  situation  in  a  detached,  judicial 
manner.  He  spoke  out  of  the  left  corner  of  his 
mouth  in  a  hoarse  voice,  without  moving  the  right 
side  of  his  face  at  all,  and  he  seemed  to  feel  that 
the  responsibility  of  the  situation  was  Cleggett's. 

"But,  don't  you  know  her?  Didn't  you  come 
here  with  her?" 

The  squat  young  man  appeared  to  debate  some 
moral  issue  inwardly  for  a  moment.  And  then, 
speaking  this  time  out  of  the  right  corner  of  his 
mouth,  which  was  now  nearer  Cleggett,  without 
disturbing  the  left  half  of  his  face,  he  pointed  to 
wards  the  oblong  box  and  murmured  huskily: 
"That's  my  job."  He  went  and  sat  down  on  the 
box  again. 

Without  more  ado  Cleggett  lifted  the  lady  and 
bore  her  onto  the  Jasper  B.  She  was  a  heavy 
burden,  but  Cleggett  declined  the  assistance  of 
Cap'n  Abernethy  and  George  the  Greek,  who  had 
come  tardily  out  of  the  forecastle  and  now  offered 
their  assistance. 

"Get  a  bottle  of  wine,"  he  told  Yosh,  as  he 
53 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

passed  the  Japanese  on  the  deck,  "and  then  make 
some  tea/' 

Cleggett  laid  the  lady  on  a  couch  in  the  cabin, 
and  then  lighted  a  lamp,  as  it  got  dark  early  in 
these  quarters.  While  he  waited  for  Yoshahira 
Kuroki  and  the  wine,  he  looked  at  her.  In  her 
appealing  helplessness  she  looked  even  more  beauti 
ful  than  she  had  at  first.  She  was  a  blonde,  with 
eyebrows  and  lashes  darker  than  her  hair;  and, 
even  in  her  swoon,  Cleggett  could  see  that  she  was 
of  the  thin-skinned,  high-colored  type.  Her  eyes, 
as  he  had  seen  before  she  swooned,  were  of  a  deep, 
dark  violet  color.  She  was  no  chit  of  a  girl,  but 
a  mature  woman,  tall  and  splendid  in  the  noble 
fullness  of  her  contours.  The  high  nose  spoke  of 
love  of  activity  and  energy  of  character.  The  full 
mouth  indicated  warmth  of  heart;  the  chin  was  of 
that  sort  which  we  have  been  taught  to  associate 
with  determination. 

The  Japanese  brought  the  wine,  and  Cleggett 
poured  a  few  spoonfuls  down  the  lady's  throat. 
Presently  she  sighed  and  stirred  and  began  to  show 
signs  of  returning  animation. 

The  Pomeranian,  which  had  followed  them  into 
the  cabin,  and  which  now  lay  whimpering  at  her 

54 


Beauty  in  Distress 


feet,  also  seemed  to  feel  that  she  was  awakening, 
and,  crawling  higher,  began  to  lick  one  of  her 
hands. 

"Make  some  tea,  Yosh,"  said  Cleggett.  "What 
is  it?" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  the  lady  herself.  Her 
eyes  had  opened  for  a  fleeting  instant  as  Cleggett 
spoke  to  the  Japanese,  and  her  lips  had  moved. 
Cleggett  bent  his  head  nearer,  while  Yosh  picked 
up  the  dog,  which  violently  objected,  and  asked 
again:  "What  is  it?" 

"Orange  pekoe,  please,"  the  lady  murmured, 
dreamily. 

And  then  she  sat  up  with  a  start,  struggled  to 
recover  herself,  and  locked  about  her  wildly. 

"Where  am  I?"  she  cried.  "What  has  hap 
pened?"  She  passed  her  hand  across  her  brow, 
frowning. 

"You  fainted,  madam,"  said  Cleggett. 

"Oh!"  Suddenly  recollection  came  to  her,  and 
her  anxieties  rushed  upon  her  once  more.  "The 
ice!  The  ice!"  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and 
grasped  Cleggett  by  both  shoulders,  searching  his 
face  with  eager  eyes.  "You  did  not  lie  to  me,  did 
you?  You  promised  me  ice!  Where  is  the  ice?" 

55 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  E. 

"You  shall  have  the  ice,'*  said  Cleggett,  "at  once." 

"Thank  God!"  she  said.  And  then:  "Where 
are  Elmer  and  the  box  ?" 

"Elmer?  Oh,  the  short  man!  On  shore.  I  be 
lieve  that  he  and  your  chauffeur  had  some  sort  of 
an  altercation,  for  the  chauffeur  went  off  and  left 
him." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  simply,  as  they  passed  up  the 
companionway  to  the  deck  together,  "that  man, 
the  driver,  refused  to  bring  us  any  farther." 

Cleggett  must  have  looked  a  little  blank  at  that, 
for  she  suddenly  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed 
at  him.  And  then,  sobering  instantly,  she  called 
to  the  squat  young  man : 

"Elmer!  Oh,  Elmer!  You  may  bring  the 
boxes  on  board!"  She  turned  to  Cleggett:  "He 
may,  mayn't  he?  Thank  you — I  was  sure  you 
would  say  he  might.  And  if  one  of  your  men 
could  just  give  him  a  lift?  And — the  ice?" 

"George,"  called  Cleggett,  "help  the  man  get  the 
boxes  aboard.  Kuroki,  bring  fifty  pounds  of  ice 
on  deck." 

She  sighed  as  she  heard  him  give  these  orders, 
but  it  was  a  sigh  of  satisfaction,  and  she  smiled 
at  Cleggett  as  she  sighed.  Sometimes  a  great  deal 

56 


Beauty  in  Distress 


can  happen  in  a  very  short  space  of  time.  Ten 
minutes  before,  Cleggett  had  never  seen  this  lady, 
and  now  he  was  giving  orders  at  her  merest  sug 
gestion.  But  in  those  ten  minutes  he  had  seen 
her  weep,  he  had  seen  her  faint,  he  had  seen  her 
recover  herself;  he  had  seen  her  emerge  from  the 
depths  of  despair  into  something  more  like  self- 
control;  he  had  carried  her  in  his  arms,  she  had 
laughed  at  him,  she  had  twice  impulsively  grasped 
him  by  the  arm,  she  had  smiled  at  him  three  times, 
she  had  sighed  twice,  she  had  frowned  once;  she 
had  swept  upon  him  bringing  with  her  an  impres 
sion  of  the  mysterious.  Many  men  are  married 
to  women  for  years  without  seeing  their  wives  dis 
play  so  many  and  such  varied  phases;  to  Cleggett 
it  seemed  not  so  much  that  he  was  making  a  new 
acquaintance  as  renewing  one  that  had  been  broken 
off  suddenly  at  some  distant  date.  Cleggett,  like 
the  true-hearted  gentleman  and  born  romanticist 
that  he  was,  resolved  to  serve  her  without  question 
until  such  time  as  she  chose  to  make  known  to  him 
her  motives  for  her  actions. 

"Do  you  know/'  she  said,  softly  and  gravely  to 
Cleggett  as  George  and  Elmer  deposited  the  oblong 
box  upon  a  spot  which  she  indicated  near  the 

57 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

cabin,  "I  have  met  very  few  men  in  my  life  who 
are  capable  of  what  you  are  doing?" 

"I?"  said  Cleggett,  surprised.  "I  have  done 
nothing." 

"You  have  found  a  woman  in  a  strange  position 
— an  unusual  position,  indeed! — and  you  have 
helped  her  without  persecuting  her  with  questions." 

''It  is  nothing/ '  murmured  Cleggett. 

"Would  you  think  me  too  impulsive/'  she  said, 
with  a  rare  smile,  "if  I  told  you  that  you  are  the 
sort  of  man  whom  women  are  ready  to  trust  im 
plicitly  almost  at  first  sight?" 

Cleggett  did  not  permit  himself  to  speak  for  fear 
that  the  thrill  which  her  words  imparted  to  him 
would  carry  him  too  far.  He  bowed. 

"But  I  think  you  mentioned  tea  ?"  she  said.  "Did 
I  hear  you  say  it  was  orange  pekoe,  or  did  I  dream 
that?  And  couldn't  we  have  it  on  deck?" 

While  Kuroki  was  bringing  a  table  and  chairs  on 
deck  and  busying  himself  about  that  preparation  of 
tea,  Cleggett  watched  Elmer,  the  squat  young  man, 
with  a  growing  curiosity.  George  and  Cap'n 
Abernethy  were  also  watching  Elmer  from  a  dis 
creet  distance.  Even  Kuroki,  silent,  swift,  and 
well-trained  Kuroki,  could  not  but  steal  occasional 

58 


Beauty  in  Distress 


glances  at  Elmer.  Had  Cleggett  been  of  a  less 
lofty  and  controlled  spirit  he  would  certainly  have 
asked  questions. 

For  Elmer,  having  uncovered  the  zinc  can  and 
taken  from  it  a  hammer  and  a  large  tin  funnel, 
proceeded  to  break  the  big  chunk  of  ice  which 
Kuroki  had  brought  him,  into  half  a  dozen  smaller 
pieces.  These  smaller  lumps,  with  the  exception 
of  two,  he  put  into  the  zinc  bucket,  wrapped  around 
with  pieces  of  coffee  sacking.  Then  he  put  the 
cover  on  the  bucket  to  exclude  the  air.  The  zinc 
bucket  was  thus  a  portable  refrigerator,  or  rather, 
ice  house. 

Taking  one  of  the  lumps  of  ice  which  he  had  left 
out  of  the  zinc  bucket  for  immediate  use,  Elmer 
carefully  and  methodically  broke  it  into  still  smaller 
pieces — pieces  about  the  size  of  an  English  walnut, 
but  irregular  in  shape.  Then  he  inserted  the  tin 
funnel  into  a  small  hole  in  the  uppermost  surface 
of  the  unpainted,  oblong  box  and  dropped  in  twenty 
or  more  of  the  little  pieces  of  ice.  When  a  piece 
proved  to  be  too  big  to  go  through  the  funnel 
Elmer  broke  it  again. 

Cleggett  noticed  that  there  were  five  of  these 
small  holes  in  the  box,  and  that  Elmer  was  slowly 

59 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

working  his  way  down  the  length  of  it  from  hole 
to  hole,  sitting  astride  of  it  the  while. 

From  the  way  in  which  he  worked,  and  the  care 
with  which  he  conserved  every  smallest  particle  of 
ice,  Elmer's  motto  seemed  to  be:  "Haste  not, 
waste  not."  But  he  did  not  appear  to  derive  any 
great  satisfaction  from  his  task,  let  alone  joy. 
In  fact,  Elmer  seemed  to  be  a  joyless  individual; 
one  who  habitually  looked  forward  to  the  worst. 
On  his  broad  face,  of  the  complexion  described  in 
police  reports  as  "pasty,"  melancholy  sat  enthroned. 
His  nose  was  flat  and  broad,  and  flat  and  broad 
were  his  cheek  bones,  too.  His  hair  was  cut  very 
short  everywhere  except  in  front;  in  front  it  hung 
down  to  his  eyebrows  in  a  straggling  black  fringe 
or  "bang."  Not  that  the  fringe  would  have  cov 
ered  the  average  person's  forehead;  this  "bang" 
was  not  long ;  but  the  truth  is  that  Elmer's  forehead 
was  lower  than  the  average  person's  and  there 
fore  easily  covered.  He  had  what  is  known  in 
certain  circles  as  a  cauliflower,  or  crysanthemum, 
ear. 

But  melancholy  as  he  looked,  Elmer  had  evidently 
had  his  moments  of  struggle  against  dejection. 
One  of  these  moments  had  been  when  he  bought 

60 


Beauty  in  Distress 


the  clothes  he  was  wearing.  His  hat  had  a  bright, 
red  and  black  band  around  it;  his  tweed  suit  was 
of  a  startling  light  gray,  marked  off  into  checks 
with  stripes  of  green;  his  waistcoat  was  of  lavender, 
and  his  hose  were  likewise  of  lavender,  but  red 
predominated  in  both  his  shirt  and  his  necktie. 
His  collar  was  too  high  for  his  short  neck,  and 
seemed  to  cause  him  discomfort.  But  this  attempt 
at  gayety  of  dress  was  of  no  avail;  one  felt  at 
once  that  it  was  a  surface  thing  and  had  no  con 
nection  with  Elmer's  soul;  it  stood  out  in  front 
of  the  background  of  his  sorrowful  personality, 
accentuating  the  gloom,  as  a  blossom  may  grow 
upon  a  bleak  rock.  As  Elmer  carefully  dropped 
ice,  piece  by  piece,  into  the  oblong  box,  progress 
ing  slowly  from  hole  to  hole,  Cleggett  thought  he 
had  never  seen  a  more  depressed  young  man. 

Captain  Abernethy  approached  Cleggett.  There 
was  hesitation  in  the  brown  old  man's  feet,  there 
was  doubt  upon  his  wrinkled  brow,  but  there  was 
the  consciousness  of  duty  in  the  poise  of  his  shoul 
ders,  there  was  determination  in  his  eyes. 

The  blonde  lady  laughed  softly  as  the  sailing- 
master  of  the  Jasper  B.  saluted  the  owner  of  the 
vessel. 

61 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"He  is  going  to  tell  you,"  she  said  to  Cleggett, 
including  the  Captain  himself  in  her  flashing  look 
and  her  remark,  "he  is  going  to  tell  you  that  you 
really  should  get  rid  of  me  and  my  boxes  at  once 
— I  can  see  it  in  his  face !" 

Captain  Abernethy  stopped  short  at  this,  and 
stared.  It  was  precisely  what  he  had  planned  to 
say  after  drawing  Cleggett  discreetly  aside.  But 
it  is  rather  startling  to  have  one's  thoughts  read 
in  this  manner. 

He  frowned  at  the  lady.  She  smiled  at  him. 
The  smile  seemed  to  say  to  the  Cap'n:  "You 
ridiculous  old  dear,  you!  You  know  that's  what 
you  were  going  to  advise,  so  why  deny  it?  I've 
found  you  out,  but  we  both  might  just  as  well  be 
good-humored  about  it,  mightn't  we?" 

"Ma'am,"  said  the  Cap'n,  evidently  struggling 
between  a  suddenly  born  desire  to  quit  frown 
ing  and  a  sense  that  he  had  a  perfect  right  to 
frown  as  much  as  he  wished,  "Ma'am,  if  you 
was  to  ask  me,  I'd  say  ridin'  on  steamships  and 
ridin'  on  sailin'  vessels  is  two  different  matters 
entirely." 

"Cap'n  Abernethy,"  said  Cleggett,  attempting  to 
indicate  that  his  sailing  master's  advice  was  not 

62 


Beauty  in  Distress 


absolutely  required,  "if  you  have  something  to  say 
to  me,  perhaps  later  will  do  just  as  well." 

"As  fur  as  the  Jasper  B.  is  concerned,"  said  the 
Cap'n,  ignoring  Cleggett's  remark,  and  still  ad 
dressing  the  lady,  "I  dunno  as  you  could  call  her 
either  a  sailin'  vessel,  or  a  steamship,  as  at  present 
constituted." 

"You  want  to  get  me  off  your  boat  at  once," 
said  the  lady.  "You  know  you  do."  And  her 
manner  added :  "Can't  you  act  like  a  good- 
natured  old  dear?  You  really  are  one,  you 
know!" 

The  Cap'n  became  embarrassed.  He  began  to 
fuss  with  his  necktie,  as  if  tying  it  tighter  would 
assist  him  to  hold  on  to  his  frown.  He  felt  the 
frown  slipping,  but  it  was  a  point  of  honor  with 
him  to  retain  it. 

"She  will  be  a  sailin'  vessel  when  she  gets  her 
sticks  into  her,"  said  the  Cap'n,  fumbling  with 
his  neckwear. 

"Let  me  fix  that  for  you,"  said  the  lady.  And 
before  the  Cap'n  could  protest  she  was  arranging 

his  tie  for  him.  "You  old  sea  captains! "  she 

said,  untying  the  scarf  and  making  the  ends  even. 
"As  if  anyone  could  possibly  be  afraid  to  sail  in 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

anything  one  of  you  had  charge  of!"  She  gave 
the  necktie  a  little  final  pat.  "There,  now!" 

The  Captain's  frown  was  gone  past  replace 
ment.  But  he  still  felt  that  he  owed  something  to 
himself. 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me,"  he  said,  turning  to  Cleg- 
gett,  "whether  what  I'd  got  to  say  to  you  would 
do  later,  or  whether  it  wouldn't  do  later,  I'd  an 
swer  you  it  would,  or  it  wouldn't,  all  accordin'  to 
whether  you  wanted  to  hear  it  now,  or  whether 
you  wanted  to  hear  it  later.  And  as  far  as  sailin' 
her  is  concerned,  Mr.  Cleggett,  I'll  sail  her,  whether 
you  turn  her  into  a  battleship  or  into  one  of  these 
here  yachts.  I  come  of  a  seafarin'  fambly." 

And  then  he  said  to  the  lady,  indicating  the  tie 
and  bobbing  his  head  forward  with  a  prim  little 
bow :  "Thank  ye,  ma'am." 

"Isn't  he  a  duck!"  said  the  lady,  following  him 
with  her  eyes,  as  he  went  behind  the  cabin.  There 
the  Cap'n  chewed,  smoked,  and  fished,  earnestly 
and  simultaneously,  for  ten  minutes.  v 

Indeed,  the  blonde  lady,  from  the  moment  when 
Elmer  began  to  put  ice  into  the  box,  seemed  to 
have  regained  her  spirits.  The  little  dog,  which 
was  an  indicator  of  her  moods,  had  likewise  lost 

64 


Beauty  in  Distress 


its  nervousness.  When  Kuroki  had  tea  ready, 
the  dog  lay  down  at  his  mistress'  feet,  beside  the 
table. 

"Dear  little  Teddy,"  said  the  lady,  patting  the 
animal  upon  the  head. 

"Teddy?"  said  Cleggett. 

"I  have  named  him,"  she  said,  "after  a  great 
American.  To  my  mind,  the  greatest — Theodore 
Roosevelt.  His  championship  of  the  cause  of  votes 
for  women  at  a  time  when  mere  politicians  were 
afraid  to  commit  themselves  is  enough  in  itself  to 
gain  him  a  place  in  history." 

She  spoke  with  a  kindling  eye,  and  Cleggett  had 
no  doubt  that  there  was  before  him  one  of  those 
remarkable  women  who  make  the  early  part  of 
the  twentieth  century  so  different  from  any  other 
historical  period.  And  he  was  one  with  her  in  her 
admiration  for  Roosevelt — a  man  whose  facility  in 
finding  adventures  and  whose  behavior  when  he 
had  found  them  had  always  made  a  strong  appeal 
to  Cleggett.  If  he  could  not  have  been  Cleggett  he 
would  have  liked  to  have  been  either  the  Chevalier 
d'Artagnan  or  Theodore  Roosevelt. 

"He  is  a  great  man,"  said  Cleggett. 

But  the  lady,  with  her  second  cup  of  tea  in  her 

65 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

hand,  was  evidently  thinking  of  something  else. 
Leaning  back  in  her  chair,  she  said  to  Cleggett: 

"It  is  no  good  for  you  to  deny  that  you  think 
I'm  a  horridly  unconventional  sort  of  person !" 

Cleggett  made  a  polite,  deprecatory  gesture. 

"Yes,  yes,  you  do,"  she  said,  decidedly.  "And, 
really,  I  am!  I  am  impulsive!  I  am  too  im 
pulsive!"  She  raised  the  cup  to  her  lips,  drank, 
and  looked  off  towards  the  western  horizon,  which 
the  sun  was  beginning  to  paint  ruddily ;  she  mused, 
murmuring  as  if  to  herself:  "Sir  Archibald  al 
ways  thought  I  was  too  impulsive,  dear  man." 

After  a  meditative  pause  she  said,  leaning  her 
elbows  on  the  table  and  gazing  searchingly  into 
Cleggett's  eyes: 

"I  am  going  to  trust  you.  I  am  going  to  reward 
your  kindness  by  telling  you  a  portion  of  my  strange 
story.  I  am  going  to  depend  upon  you  to  under 
stand  it." 

Cleggett  bowed  and  murmured  his  gratitude  at 
the  compliment.  Then  he  said : 

"You  could  trust  me  with — — "  But  he  stopped. 
He  did  not  wish  to  be  premature. 

"With  my  life.  I  could  trust  you  with  my  life," 
finished  the  lady,  gravely.  "I  know  that.  I  be- 

66 


Beauty  in  Distress 


lieve  that.  I  feel  it,  somehow.  It  is  because  I  do 

feel  it  that  I  tell  you "  She  paused,  as  if,  after 

all,  she  lacked  the  courage.  Cleggett  said  nothing. 
He  was  too  fine  in  grain  to  force  a  confidence. 
After  a  moment  she  continued:  "I  can  tell  you 
this,"  she  said,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice  that  was 
almost  a  sob,  "that  I  am  practically  friendless. 
When  you  call  a  taxicab  for  me  in  a  few  moments, 
and  I  leave  you,  with  Elmer  and  my  boxes,  I  shall 
have  no  place  to  go." 

"But,  surely,  madam " 

"Do  not  call  me  madam.  Call  me  Lady  Agatha. 
I  am  Lady  Agatha  Fairhaven.  What  is  your 
name?" 

Cleggett  told  her. 

"You  have  heard  of  me  ?"  asked  Lady  Agatha. 

Cleggett  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had  not. 
He  thought  that  a  shade  of  disappointment  passed 
over  the  lady's  face,  but  in  a  moment  she  smiled 
and  remarked : 

"How  relative  a  thing  is  fame !  You  have  never 
heard  of  me!  And  yet  I  can  assure  you  that  I  am 
well  enough  known  in  England.  I  was  one  of  the 
very  first  militant  suffragettes  to  break  a  window — 
if  not  the  very  first.  The  point  is,  indeed,  in  dis- 

67 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

pute.  And  were  it  not  for  my  devotion  to  the 
cause  I  would  not  now  be  in  my  present  terrible 
plight — doomed  to  wander  from  pillar  to  post  with 
that  thing"  (she  pointed  with  a  shudder  to  the  box 
into  which  Elmer  was  still  gloomily  poking  ice)  — 

"chained  to  me  like  a — like  a "     She  hesitated 

for  a  word,  and  Cleggett,  tactlessly  enough,  with 
some  vague  recollection  of  a  classical  tale  in  his 
mind,  suggested: 

"Like  a  corpse/' 

Lady  Agatha  turned  pale.  She  gazed  at  Cleg 
gett  with  terror-stricken  eyes,  her  beautiful  face 
became  almost  haggard  in  an  instant;  he  thought 
she  was  about  to  faint  again,  but  she  did  not.  As 
he  looked  upon  the  change  his  words  had  wrought, 
filled  with  wonder  and  compunction,  Cleggett  sud 
denly  divined  that  her  occasional  flashes  of  gayety 
had  been,  all  along,  merely  the  forced  vivacity  of 
a  brave  and  clever  woman  who  was  making  a  gal 
lant  fight  against  total  collapse. 

"Mr.  Cleggett,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  was 
scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper,  "I  am  going  to 
confide  everything  to  you — the  whole  truth.  I  will 
spare  myself  nothing;  I  will  throw  myself  upon 
your  mercy. 

68 


Beauty  in  Distress 


"I  firmly  believe,  Mr.  Cleggett — I  am  practically 
certain — that  the  box  there,  upon  which  Elmer  is 
sitting,  contains  the  body  of  Reginald  Maltravers, 
natural  son  of  the  tenth  Earl  of  Claiborne,  and  the 
cousin  of  my  late  husband,  Sir  Archibald  Fair- 
haven." 


CHAPTER   VI 
LADY  AGATHA'S  STORY 

IT  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Cleggett 
repressed  a  start.     Another  man  might  have 
shown  the  shock  he  felt.     But  Cleggett  had 
the  iron  nerve  of  a  Bismarck  and  the  fine  manner 
of  a  Richelieu.     He  did  not  even  permit  his  eyes 
to    wander    towards    the    box    in    question.     He 
merely  sat  and  waited. 

Lady  Agatha,  having  brought  herself  to  the  point 
of  revelation,  seemed  to  find  a  difficulty  in  pro 
ceeding.  Cleggett,  mutely  asking  permission, 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Oh — if  you  will!"  said  Lady  Agatha,  extend 
ing  her  hand  towards  the  case.  He  passed  it  over, 
and  when  she  had  chosen  one  of  the  little  rolls 
and  lighted  it  she  said: 

"Mr.  Cleggett,  have  you  ever  lived  in  England  ?" 
"I  have  never  even  visited  England." 
"I  wish  you  knew  England."     She  watched  the 
curling  smoke  from  her  tobacco  as  it  drifted  across 

70 


Lady  Agathas  Story 


the  table.  "If  you  knew  England  you  would  com 
prehend  so  much  more  readily  some  parts  of  my 
story. 

"But,  being  an  American,  you  can  have  no  ade 
quate  conception  of  the  conservatism  that  still  pre 
vails  in  certain  quarters.  I  refer  to  the  really  old 
families  among  the  landed  aristocracy.  Some  of 
them  have  not  changed  essentially,  in  their  attitude 
towards  the  world  in  general,  since  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  They  make  of  family  a  fetish. 
They  are  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  upon  the 
altar  of  family.  They  may  exhibit  this  pride  of 
race  less  obviously  than  some  of  the  French  or 
Germans  or  Italians;  but  they  have  a  deeper  sense 
of  their  own  dignity,  and  of  what  is  due  to  it, 
than  any  of  your  more  flighty  and  picturesque  con 
tinentals.  There  are  certain  things  that  are  done. 
Certain  things  are  not  done.  One  must  conform 
or " 

She  interrupted  herself  and  delicately  flicked  the 
ash  from  her  cigarette. 

"Conform,  or  be  jolly  well  damned,"  she  fin 
ished,  crossing  one  leg  over  the  other  and  leaning 
back  in  her  chair.  "This,  by  the  way,  is  the  only 
decent  cigarette  I  have  found  in  America.  I  hate 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

to  smoke  perfume — I  like  tobacco — and  most  of 
your  shops  seem  to  keep  nothing  but  the  highly 
scented  Turkish  and  Egyptian  varieties." 

"They  were  made  in  London,"  said  Cleggett, 
bowing. 

"Ah!  But  where  was  I?  Oh,  yes — one  must 
conform.  Especially  if  one  belongs  to,  or  has  mar 
ried  into,  the  Claiborne  family.  Of  all  the  men  in 
England  the  Earl  of  Claiborne  is  the  most  con 
servative,  the  most  reactionary,  the  most  deep 
ly  encrusted  with  prejudice.  He  would  stop  at 
little  where  the  question  concerned  the  prestige 
of  the  aristocracy  in  general;  he  would  stop 
at  nothing  where  the  Claiborne  family  is  con 
cerned. 

"I  am  telling  you  all  this  so  that  you  may  get 
an  inkling  of  the  blow  it  was  to  him  when  I  be 
came  a  militant  suffragist.  It  was  blow  enough  to 
his  nephew,  Sir  Archibald,  my  late  husband.  The 
Earl  maintains  that  it  hastened  poor  Archibald's 
death.  But  that  is  ridiculous.  Archibald  had  un 
dermined  his  constitution  with  dissipation,  and  died 
following  an  operation  for  gravel.  He  was  to  have 
succeeded  to  the  title,  as  both  of  the  Earl's  legitimate 
sons  were  dead  without  issue — one  of  them  perished 

72 


Lady  Agatha  s  Story 


in  the  Boer  War,  and  the  other  was  killed  in  the 
hunting  field. 

"Upon  Archibald's  death  the  old  Earl  publicly 
acknowledged  Reginald  Maltravers,  his  natural 
son,  and  took  steps  to  have  him  legitimatized.  For 
all  of  the  bend  sinister  upon  his  escutcheon,  Regi 
nald  Maltravers  was  as  fanatical  concerning  the 
family  as  his  father.  Perhaps  more  fanatical,  be 
cause  he  secretly  suffered  for  the  irregularity  of  his 
own  position  in  the  world. 

"At  any  rate,  supported  at  first  by  the  old  Earl, 
he  began  a  series  of  persecutions  designed  to  make 
me  renounce  my  suffragist  principles,  or  at  least 
to  make  me  cease  playing  a  conspicuous  public  part 
in  the  militant  propaganda.  As  my  husband  was 
dead  and  there  were  no  children,  I  could  not  see 
that  I  was  accountable  to  the  Claiborne  family  for 
my  actions.  But  the  Claibornes  took  a  different 
view  of  it.  In  their  philosophy,  once  a  Claiborne, 
always  a  Claiborne.  I  was  bringing  disgrace  and 
humiliation  upon  the  family,  in  their  opinion. 
Knowing  the  old  Earl  as  I  do,  I  am  aware 
that  his  suffering  was  genuine  and  intense. 
But  what  was  I  to  do?  One  cannot  desert  one's 
principles  merely  because  they  cause  suffering; 

73 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

otherwise  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  revo 
lution. 

"Reginald  Maltravers  had  another  reason  for 
his  persecution.  After  the  death  of  Sir  Archibald 
he  himself  sought  my  hand  in  marriage.  I  shall 
always  remember  the  form  of  his  proposal ;  it  con 
cluded  with  these  words:  'Had  Archibald  lived 
you  would  have  been  a  countess.  You  may  still  be 
a  countess — but  you  must  drop  this  suffragist  show, 
you  know.  It  is  all  bally  rot,  Agatha,  all  bally  rot/ 
I  would  not  have  married  him  without  the  con 
dition,  for  I  despised  the  man  himself;  but  the  con 
dition  made  me  furious  and  I  drove  him  from  my 
sight  with  words  that  turned  him  white  and  made 
him  my  enemy  forever.  'You  will  not  be  my 
countess,  then/  he  said.  'Very  well — but  I  can 
promise  you  that  you  will  cease  to  be  a  suffragist/ 
I  can  still  see  the  evil  flash  of  his  eye  behind  his 
monocle  as  he  uttered  these  words  and  turned 
away/' 

Lady  Agatha  shuddered  at  the  recollection,  and 
took  a  cup  of  tea. 

"It  was  then,"  she  resumed,  "that  the  real  per 
secution  began.  I  was  peculiarly  helpless,  as  I 
have  no  near  relations  who  might  have  come  to  my 

74 


Lady  Agatha's  Story 


defense.  Representing  himself  always  as  the  agent 
of  his  father,  but  far  exceeding  the  Earl  in  the 
malevolence  of  his  inventions,  Reginald  Maltravers 
sought  by  every  means  he  could  command  to  drive 
me  from  public  life  in  England. 

"Three  times  he  succeeded  in  having  me  flung 
into  Hollo  way  Jail.  I  need  not  tell  you  of  the 
terrors  of  that  institution,  nor  of  the  degrading 
horrors  of  forcible  feeding.  They  are  known  to  a 
shocked  and  sympathetic  world.  But  Reginald 
Maltravers  contrived,  in  my  case,  to  add  to  the 
usual  brutalities  a  peculiar  and  personal  touch.  By 
bribery,  as  I  believe,  he  succeeded  in  getting  himself 
into  the  prison  as  a  turnkey.  It  was  his  custom, 
when  I  lay  weak  and  helpless  in  the  semistupor  of 
starvation,  to  glide  into  my  cell  and,  standing  by 
my  couch,  to  recite  to  me  the  list  of  tempting 
viands  that  might  appear  daily  upon  the  board  of 
a  Countess  of  Claiborne. 

"He  soon  learned  that  his  very  presence  itself 
was  a  persecution.  After  my  release  from  jail  the 
last  time,  he  began  to  follow  me  everywhere.  Turn 
where  I  would,  there  was  Reginald  Maltravers.  At 
suffrage  meetings  he  took  his  station  directly  be 
fore  the  speaker's  stand,  stroked  his  long  blond 

75 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

mustache  with  his  long  white  fingers,  and  stared  at 
me  steadfastly  through  his  monocle,  with  an  evil 
smile  upon  his  face.  Formerly  he  had,  in  several 
instances,  prevented  me  from  attending  suffrage 
meetings;  once  he  had  me  spirited  away  and  im 
prisoned  for  a  week  when  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  burn 
a  railroad  station  for  the  good  of  the  cause.  He 
strove  to  ruin  me  with  my  leaders  in  this  despicable 
manner. 

"But  in  the  end  he  took  to  showing  himself ;  he 
stood  and  stared.  Merely  that.  He  was  subtle 
enough  to  shift  the  persecution  from  the  province 
of  the  physical  to  the  realm  of  the  psychological. 
It  was  like  being  haunted.  Even  when  I  did  not 
see  him,  I  began  to  think  that  I  saw  him.  He 
deliberately  planted  that  hallucination  in  my  mind. 
It  is  a  wonder  that  I  did  not  go  mad. 

"I  finally  determined  to  flee  to  America.  I  made 
all  my  arrangements  with  care  and — as  I  thought 
— with  secrecy.  I  imagined  that  I  had  given  him 
the  slip.  But  he  was  too  clever  for  me.  The  third 
day  out,  as  one  of  the  ship's  officers  was  showing, 
me  about  the  vessel,  I  detected  Reginald  Maltravers 
in  the  hold.  It  is  not  usual  to  allow  women  so 
far  below  decks ;  but  I  had  insisted  on  seeing  every- 


Lady  Agatha  s  Story 


thing.  Perspiring,  begrimed,  and  mopping  the 
moisture  from  his  brow  with  a  piece  of  cotton 
waste,  there  he  stood  in  the  guise  of  a — of — a 
croaker,  is  it,  Mr.  Cleggett?" 

"Stoker,  I  believe,"  said  Cleggett. 

"Stoker.  Thank  you.  He  turned  away  in  con 
fusion  when  he  saw  that  he  was  discovered.  I  per 
ceived  that,  designing  to  cross  on  the  same  ship 
with  me,  he  had  thought  himself  hidden  there. 
He  was  not  wearing  his  monocle,  but  I  would  know 
that  sloping  forehead,  that  blond  mustache,  and 
that  long,  high,  bony  nose  anywhere." 

Lady  Agatha  broke  off  for  a  moment.  She  was 
extremely  agitated.  But  presently  she  continued: 
"I  endeavored  to  evade  him.  The  attempt  was  use 
less.  He  found  me  out  at  once.  The  persecution 
went  on.  It  was  more  terrible  here  than  it  had 
been  in  England.  There  I  had  friends.  I  had 
hours,  sometimes  even  whole  days,  to  myself. 

"But  this  was  not  the  worst.  A  new  phase  de 
veloped.  From  his  appearance  it  suddenly  became 
apparent  to  me  that  Reginald  Maltravers  could  not 
stop  haunting  me  if  he  wished!" 

"Could  not  stop?"  cried  Cleggett. 

"Could  not,"  said  Lady  Agatha.  "The  hunt  had 
77 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

become  a  monomania  with  him.  It  had  become 
an  obsession.  He  had  given  his  whole  mentality 
to  it  and  it  had  absorbed  all  his  faculties.  He  was 
now  the  victim  of  it.  He  had  grown  powerless  in 
the  grip  of  the  idea;  he  had  lost  volition  in  the 
matter. 

"You  can  imagine  my  consternation  when  I  real 
ized  this.  I  began  to  fear  the  day  when  his  in 
sanity  would  take  some  violent  form  and  he  would 
endeavor  to  do  me  a  personal  injury.  I  determined 
to  have  a  bodyguard.  I  wanted  a  man  inured  to 
danger;  one  capable  of  meeting  violence  with  vio 
lence,  if  the  need  arose.  It  struck  me  that  if  I 
could  get  into  touch  with  one  of  those  chivalrous 
Western  outlaws,  of  whom  we  read  in  Ameri 
can  works  of  fiction,  he  would  be  just  the  sort 
of  man  I  needed  to  protect  me  from  Reginald 
Maltravers. 

"I  did  not  consider  appealing  to  the  authorities, 
for  I  have  no  confidence  in  your  American  laws, 
Mr.  Cleggett.  But  I  did  not  know  how  to  go  about 
finding  a  chivalrous  Western  outlaw.  So  finally  I 
put  an  advertisement  in  the  personal  column  of 
one  of  your  morning  papers  for  a  reformed  con 
vict/' 

78 


Lady  'Agatha  s  Story 


"A  reformed  convict!"  exclaimed  Cleggett. 
"May  I  ask  how  you  worded  the  ad.  ?" 

"Ad.?  Oh,  advertisement?  I  will  get  it  for 
you." 

She  went  into  the  stateroom  and  was  back  in  a 
moment  with  a  newspaper  cutting  which  she  handed 
to  Cleggett.  It  read : 


Convict  recently  released  from  Sing  Sing,  if 
his  reform  is  really  genuine,  may  secure  honest 
employment  by  writing  to  A.  F.,  care  Morning 
Dispatch. 

"Out  of  the  answers,"  she  resumed,  "I  selected 
four  and  had  their  writers  call  for  a  personal  inter 
view.  But  only  two  of  them  seemed  to  me  to 
be  really  reformed,  and  of  these  two  Elmer's  re 
form  struck  me  as  being  the  more  genuine.  You 
may  have  noticed  that  Elmer  gives  the  appearance 
of  being  done  with  worldly  vanities/* 

"He  does  seem  depressed/ '  said  Cleggett,  "but  I 
had  imputed  it  largely  to  the  nature  of  his  present 
occupation." 

"It  is  due  to  his  attempt  to  lead  a  better  life — 
or  at  least  so  he  tells  me,"  said  Lady  Agatha. 
"Morality  does  not  come  easy  to  Elmer,  he  says, 

79 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

and  I  believe  him.  Elmer's  time  is  largely  taken 
up  by  inward  moral  debate  as  to  the  right  or 
wrong  of  particular  hypothetical  cases  which  his 
imagination  insists  on  presenting  to  his  con 
science." 

"I  can  certainly  imagine  no  state  of  mind  less 
enjoyable,"  said  Cleggett. 

"Nor  I,"  replied  Lady  Agatha.  "But  to  re 
sume  :  The  very  fact  that  I  had  employed  a  guard 
seemed  to  put  Reginald  Maltravers  beside  himself. 
He  followed  me  more  closely  than  ever.  Regard 
less  of  appearances,  he  would  suddenly  plant  him 
self  in  front  of  me  in  restaurants  and  tramcars,  in 
the  streets  or  parks  when  I  went  for  an  airing, 
even  in  the  lifts  and  corridors  of  the  apartment 
hotel  where  I  stopped,  and  stare  at  me  intently 
through  his  monocle,  caressing  his  mustache  the 
while.  I  did  not  dare  make  a  scene ;  the  thing  was 
causing  enough  remark  without  that;  I  was,  in 
fact,  losing  my  reputation. 

"Finally,  goaded  beyond  endurance,  I  called 
Elmer  into  my  apartment  one  day  and  put  the  whole 
case  before  him. 

"  'I  will  pay  almost  any  price  short  of  participa 
tion  in  actual  crime/  I  told  him,  'for  a  fortnight 

80 


Lady  Agatha's  Story 


of  freedom  from  that  man's  presence.  I  can  stand 
it  no  longer;  I  feel  my  reason  slipping  from  me. 
Have  I  not  heard  that  there  are  in  New  York 
creatures  who  are  willing,  on  the  payment  of  a 
certain  stipulated  sum,  to  guarantee  to  chastise  a 
person  so  as  to  disable  him  for  a  definite  period, 
without  doing  him  permanent  injury?  You  must 
know  some  such  disreputable  characters.  Procure 
me  some  wretches  of  this  sort!' 

"Elmer  replied  that  such  creatures  do,  indeed, 
exist.  He  called  them — what  did  he  call  them?'* 

"Gunmen?"  suggested  Cleggett. 

"Yes,  thank  you.  He  brought  two  of  them  to 
me  whom  he  introduced  as " 

She  paused.  "The  names  escape  me,"  she  said. 
She  called :  "Elmer,  just  step  here  a  moment, 
please." 

Elmer,  who  was  still  putting  ice  into  the  oblong 
box,  moodily  laid  away  his  tools  and  approached. 

"What  were  the  odd  names  of  your  friends? 
The  ones  who — who  made  the  mistake?"  asked 
Lady  Agatha,  resuming  her  seat. 

Elmer  rolled  a  bilious  eye  at  Cleggett  and  asked 
Lady  Agatha,  out  of  that  corner  of  his  mouth 
nearer  to  her : 

81 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Is  th'  guy  right?" 

"Mr.  Cleggett  is  a  friend  of  mine  and  can  keep 
a  secret,  if  that  is  what  you  mean,"  said  Lady 
Agatha.  And  the  words  sent  a  thrill  of  elation 
through  Cleggett's  being. 

"M'  friends  w'at  makes  th'  mistake,"  said  Elmer, 
apparently  satisfied  with  the  assurance,  and  offer 
ing  the  information  to  Cleggett  out  of  the  side  of 
his  mouth  which  had  not  been  involved  in  his  ques 
tion  to  Lady  Agatha,  "goes  by  th'  monakers  of 
Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the  Cat." 

"Picturesque,"  murmured  Cleggett. 

"Picture — what?  Picture  not'in'!"  said  Elmer, 
huskily.  "The  bulls  got  not'in'  on  them  boys. 
Them  guys  never  been  mugged.  Them  guys  is 
too  foxy  t'  get  mugged." 

"I  infer  that  you  weren't  always  so  foxy,"  said 
Cleggett,  eyeing  him  curiously. 

The  remark  seemed  to  touch  a  sensitive  spot. 
Elmer  flushed  and  shuffled  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  hanging  his  head  as  if  in  embarrassment. 
Finally  he  said,  earnestly : 

"I  wasn't  no  boob,  Mr.  Cleggett.  It  was  a 
snitch  got  me  settled.  I  was  a  good  cracksman, 
honest  I  was.  But  I  never  had  no  luck." 

82 


Lady  Agathas  Story  . 


"I  intended  no  reflection  on  your  professional 
ability,"  said  Cleggett,  politely. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  Elmer, 
forgivingly.  "Nobody's  feelin's  is  hoited.  And 
any  friend  of  th'  little  dame  here  is  a  friend  o' 
mine."  The  diminutive,  on  Elmer's  lips,  was  in 
tended  as  a  compliment;  Lady  Agatha  was  not 
a  small  woman. 

"Elmer/'  said  Lady  Agatha,  "tell  Mr.  Cleggett 
how  the  mistake  occurred." 

Oratory  was  evidently  not  Elmer's  strongest 
point.  But  he  braced  himself  for  the  effort  and 
began : 

"When  th'  skoit  here  says  she  wants  the  big  boob 
punched  I  says  to  m'self,  foist  of  all:  'Is  it  right 
or  is  it  wrong?'  Oncet  youse  got  that  reform 
high  sign  put  onto  youse,  youse  can't  be  too  care 
ful.  Do  youse  get  me?  So  when  th'  skoit  here 
puts  it  up  to  me  I  thinks  foist  off:  'Is  it  right  or 
is  it  wrong?'  See?  So  I  thinks  it  over  and  I 
says  to  m'self  th'  big  boob's  been  pullin'  rough 
stuff  on  th'  little  dame  here.  Do  youse  get  me? 
So  I  says  to  m'self,  the  big  boob  ought  to  get  a 
wallop  on  the  nut.  See  ?  What  th'  big  gink  needs 
is  someone  to  bounce  a  brick  off  his  bean,  f'r  th' 

83 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

dame  here's  a  square  little  dame.  Do  youse  get 
me?  So  I  says  to  the  little  dame :  Tm  wit'  youse, 
see?  Wat  th'  big  gink  needs  is  a  mont'  in  th' 
hospital.'  An'  the  little  dame  here  says  he's  not 
to  be  croaked,  but " 

But  at  that  instant  Teddy,  the  Pomeranian, 
sprang  towards  the  uncovered  hatchway  that  gave 
into  the  hold,  barking  violently.  Lady  Agatha, 
who  could  see  into  the  opening,  arose  with  a  scream. 

Cleggett,  leaping  towards  the  hatchway,  was  just 
in  time  to  see  two  men  jump  backward  from 
the  bottom  of  the  ladder  into  the  murk  of  the  hold. 
They  had  been  listening.  Drawing  his  pistol,  and 
calling  to  the  crew  of  the  Jasper  B.  to  follow  him, 
Cleggett  plunged  recklessly  downward  and  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER   VII 
FIRST  BLOOD  FOR  CLEGGETT 

AS  his  feet  struck  the  top  of  the  rubbish 
heap  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel,  Cleggett 
stumbled  and  staggered  forward.  But  he 
did  not  let  go  of  his  revolver. 

Perhaps  he  would  not  have  fallen,  but  the  Pome 
ranian,  which  had  leaped  into  the  hold  after  him, 
yelping  like  a  terrier  at  a  rat  hunt,  ran  between  his 
legs  and  tripped  him. 

"Damn  the  dog !"  cried  Cleggett,  going  down. 

But  the  fall  probably  saved  his  life,  for  as  he 
spoke  two  pistol  shots  rang  out  simultaneously 
from  the  forward  part  of  the  hold.  The  bullets 
passed  over  his  head.  Raising  himself  on  his  el 
bow,  Cleggett  fired  rapidly  three  times,  aiming  at 
the  place  where  a  spurt  of  flame  had  come  from. 

A  cry  answered  him,  and  he  knew  that  at  least 
one  of  his  bullets  had  taken  effect.  He  rose  to  his 
feet  and  plunged  forward,  firing  again,  and  at  the 
same  instant  another  bullet  grazed  his  temple. 

85 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

The  next  few  seconds  were  a  wild  confusion  of 
yelping  dog,  shouts,  curses,  shots  that  roared  like 
the  explosion  of  big  guns  in  that  pent-up  and  re 
stricted  place,  stinking  powder,  and  streaks  of  fire 
that  laced  themselves  across  the  darkness.  But 
only  a  single  pistol  replied  to  Cleggett' s  now  and 
he  was  confident  that  one  of  the  men  was  out  of 
the  fight. 

But  the  other  man,  blindly  or  with  intention,  was 
stumbling  nearer  as  he  fired.  A  bullet  creased 
Cleggett's  shoulder;  it  was  fired  so  close  to  him 
that  he  felt  the  heat  of  the  exploding  powder;  and 
in  the  sudden  glow  of  light  he  got  a  swift  and 
vivid  glimpse  of  a  white  face  framed  in  long  black 
hair,  and  of  flashing  white  teeth  beneath  a  lifted 
lip  that  twitched.  The  face  was  almost  within 
touching  distance;  as  it  vanished  Cleggett  heard 
the  sharp,  whistling  intake  of  the  fellow's  breath 
— and  then  a  click  that  told  him  the  other's  last 
cartridge  was  gone.  Cleggett  clubbed  his  pistol 
and  leaped  forward,  striking  at  the  place  where 
the  gleaming  teeth  had  been.  His  blow  missed; 
he  spun  around  with  the  force  of  it.  As  he  steadied 
himself  to  shoot  again  he  heard  a  rush  behind  him 
and  knew  that  his  men  had  come  to  his  assistance. 

86 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


"Collar  him !"  he  cried.     "Don't  shoot,  or " 

But  he  did  not  finish  that  sentence.  A  thousand 
lights  danced  before  his  eyes,  Niagara  roared  in 
his  ears  for  an  instant,  and  he  knew  no  more.  His 
adversary  had  laid  him  out  with  the  butt  of  a 
pistol. 

Cleggett  was  not  that  inconsiderable  sort  of  a 
man  who  is  killed  in  any  trivial  skirmish:  There 
was  a  moment  at  the  bridge  of  Arcole  when  Napo 
leon,  wounded  and  flung  into  a  ditch,  appeared  to 
be  lost.  But  when  Nature,  often  so  stupid,  really 
does  take  stock  and  become  aware  that  she  has 
created  an  eagle  she  does  not  permit  that  eagle  to 
be  killed  before  its  wings  are  fledged.  Napoleon 
was  picked  out  of  the  ditch.  Cleggett  was  only 
stunned.  Both  were  saved  for  larger  triumphs. 
The  association  of  names  is  not  accidental.  These 
two  men  were,  in  some  respects,  not  dissimilar,  al 
though  Bonaparte  lacked  Cleggett's  breeding. 

When  Cleggett  regained  consciousness  he  was  on 
deck;  George,  Kuroki  and  Cap'n  Abernethy  stood 
about  him  in  a  little  semicircle  of  anxiety;  Lady 
Agatha  was  applying  a  cold  compress  to  the  bump 
upon  his  head.  (He  made  nothing  of  his  other 
scratches.)  As  for  Elmer,  who  had  not  stirred 

87 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

from  his  seat  on  the  oblong  box,  he  moodily  re 
garded,  not  Cleggett,  but  a  slight  young  fellow  with 
long  black  hair,  who  lay  motionless  upon  the  deck. 

Cleggett  struggled  to  his  feet.  "Is  he  dead?" 
he  asked,  pointing  to  the  figure  of  his  recent  as 
sailant.  Cap'n  Abernethy,  for  the  first  time  since 
Cleggett  had  known  him,  gave  a  direct  answer  to 
a  question. 

"Mighty  nigh  it,"  he  said,  staring  down  at  the 
young  man.  Then  he  added:  "Kind  o'  innocent 
lookin'  young  fellow,  at  that." 

"But  the  other  one?  Was  he  killed?"  asked 
Cleggett. 

"The  other?"  George  inquired.  "But  there  was 
no  other.  When  we  got  down  there  you  and  this 

boy "  And  George  described  the  struggle  that 

had  taken  place  after  Cleggett  had  lost  conscious 
ness.  The  whole  affair,  as  far  as  it  concerned 
Cleggett,  had  been  a  matter  of  seconds  rather  than 
minutes;  it  was  begun  and  over  like  a  hundred- 
yard  dash  on  the  cinder  track.  When  George  and 
Kuroki  and  Cap'n  Abernethy  had  tumbled  into 
the  hold  they  had  been  afraid  to  shoot  for  fear 
of  hitting  Cleggett;  they  had  reached  him,  guided 
by  his  voice,  just  as  he  went  down  under  his  as- 

88 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


sailant's  pistol.  They  had  not  subdued  the  youth 
until  he  had  suffered  severely  from  George's  dagger. 
Later  they  learned  that  one  of  Cleggett's  bullets 
had  also  found  him.  Cleggett  listened  to  the  end, 
and  then  he  said : 

"But  there  were  two  men  in  the  hold.  And  one 
of  them,  dead  or  wounded,  must  still  be  down 
there.  Carry  this  fellow  into  the  forecastle — we'll 
look  at  him  later.  Then  bring  some  lanterns.  We 
are  going  down  into  that  hold  again." 

With  their  pistols  in  their  right  hands  and  lan 
terns  in  their  left  they  descended,  Cleggett  first. 
It  was  not  impossible  that  the  other  intruder  might 
be  lying,  wounded,  but  revived  enough  by  now  to 
work  a  pistol,  behind  one  of  the  rubbish  heaps. 

But  no  shots  greeted  them.  The  hold  of  the 
Jasper  B.  was  not  divided  into  compartments  of 
any  sort.  If  it  had  ever  had  them,  they  had  been 
torn  away.  Below  deck,  except  for  the  rubbish 
heap  and  the  steps  for  the  masts,  she  was  empty 
as  a  soup  tureen.  The  pile  of  debris  was  the  high 
est  toward  the  waist  of  the  vessel.  There  it  formed 
a  treacherous  hill  of  junk;  this  hill  sloped  down 
ward  towards  the  bow  and  towards  the  stern;  in 
both  the  fore  and  after  parts,  under  the  forecastle 

89 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

and    the    cabin,    there    were    comparatively    clear 
spaces. 

The  four  men  forced  their  way  back  towards 
the  stern  and  then  came  slowly  forward  in  a  line 
that  extended  across  the  vessel,  exploring  with  their 
lanterns  every  inch  of  the  precarious  footing,  and 
overturning  and  looking  behind,  under,  and  into 
every  box,  cask,  or  jumble  of  planking  that  might 
possibly  offer  a  place  of  concealment.  They  found 
no  one.  And,  until  they  reached  a  clearer  place, 
well  forward,  on  the  starboard  side  of  the  ship, 
they  found  no  trace  of  anyone. 

Cleggett,  who  was  examining  this  place,  sud 
denly  uttered  an  exclamation  which  brought  the 
others  to  him.  He  pointed  to  stains  of  blood  upon 
the  planking;  near  these  stains  were  marks  left 
by  boots  which  had  been  gaumed  with  a  yellowish 
clay.  A  revolver  lay  on  the  floor.  Cleggett  ex 
amined  it  and  found  that  only  one  cartridge  had 
been  exploded.  The  stains  of  blood  and  the  stains 
of  yellow  clay  made  an  easily  followed  trail  for 
some  yards  to  a  point  about  halfway  between  the 
bow  and  stern  on  the  starboard  side. 

There,  in  the  waist  of  the  vessel,  they  ceased; 
ceased  abruptly,  mysteriously. 

90 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


Cleggett,  not  content,  made  his  men  go  over  the 
place  again,  even  more  thoroughly  than  before. 
But  there  was  no  one  there,  dead  or  wounded,  un 
less  he  had  succeeded  in  contracting  himself  to  the 
dimensions  of  a  rat. 

"There  is  nothing,"  said  Cleggett,  standing  by 
the  ladder  that  led  up  to  the  deck.  "Nothing," 
echoed  George;  and  then  as  if  with  one  impulse, 
and  moved  by  the  same  eerie  thought,  these  four 
men  suddenly  raised  their  lanterns  head-high  and 
gazed  at  one  another. 

A  startled  look  spread  from  face  to  face.  But 
no  one  spoke.  There  was  no  need  to.  All  recog 
nized  that  they  were  in  the  presence  of  an  apparent 
impossibility.  Yet  this  seemingly  impossible  thing 
was  the  fact.  There  had  been  two  men  in  the  hold 
of  the  Jasper  B.  They  had  entered  as  mysteriously 
and  silently  as  disembodied  spirits  might  have  done. 
One  of  them,  wounded,  had  made  his  exit  in  the 
same  baffling  way.  Where  ?  How  ? 

Cleggett  broke  the  silence. 

"Let  us  go  to  the  forecastle  and  have  a  look  at 
that  fellow,"  he  said,  and  led  the  way. 

No  one  lagged  as  they  left  the  hold.  These  were 
all  brave  men,  but  there  are  times  when  the  in- 

91 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

visible,  the  incomprehensible,  will  send  a  momentary 
chill  to  the  heart  of  the  most  intrepid. 

Cleggett  found  Lady  Agatha,  her  own  troubles 
for  the  time  forgotten,  in  the  forecastle.  She  had 
lighted  a  lamp  and  was  bending  over  the  wounded 
man,  whose  coat  and  waistcoat  she  had  removed. 
His  clothing  was  a  sop  of  blood.  They  cut  his 
shirt  and  undershirt  from  him.  Kuroki  brought 
water  and  the  medicine  chest  and  surgical  outfit 
with  which  Cleggett  had  provided  the  Jasper  B. 
They  examined  his  wounds,  Lady  Agatha,  with  a 
fine  seriousness  and  a  deft  touch  which  claimed 
Cleggett's  admiration,  washing  them  herself  and 
proceeding  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood. 

"Oh,  I  am  not  an  altogether  useless  person,"  she 
said,  with  a  momentary  smile,  as  she  saw  the  look 
in  Cleggett's  face.  And  Cleggett  remembered  with 
shame  that  he  had  not  thanked  her  for  her  ministra 
tions  to  himself. 

A  pistol  bullet  had  gone  quite  through  the  young 
man's  shoulder.  There  was  a  deep  cut  on  his  head, 
and  there  were  half  a  dozen  other  stab  wounds  on 
his  body.  George  had  evidently  worked  with  great 
rapidity  in  the  hold. 

In  the  inside  breast  pocket  of  his  coat  he  had 
92 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


carried  a  thin  and  narrow  little  book.  There  was 
a  dagger  thrust  clear  through  it;  if  the  book  had 
not  been  there  this  terrible  blow  delivered  by  the 
son  of  Leonidas  must  inevitably  have  penetrated 
the  lung. 

Cleggett  opened  the  book.  It  was  entitled 
"Songs  of  Liberty,  by  Giuseppe  Jones/'  The  verse 
was  written  in  the  manner  of  Walt  Whitman.  A 
glance  at  one  of  the  sprawling  poems  showed  Cleg 
gett  that  in  sentiment  it  was  of  the  most  violent  and 
incendiary  character. 

"Why,  he  is  an  anarchist !"  said  Cleggett  in  sur 
prise. 

"Oh,  really !"  Lady  Agatha  looked  up  from  her 
work  of  mercy  and  spoke  with  animation,  and  then 
gazed  upon  the  youth's  face  again  with  a  new  in 
terest.  "An  anarchist!  How  interesting!  I  have 
always  wanted  to  meet  an  anarchist." 

"Poor  boy,  he  don't  look  like  nothin'  bad,"  said 
Cap'n  Abernethy,  who  seemed  to  have  taken  a 
fancy  to  Giuseppe  Jones. 

"Listen,"  said  Cleggett,  and  he  read: 

"As  for  your  flag,  I  spit  upon  your  flag! 
I  spit  upon  your  organized  society  anywhere  and 
everywhere ; 

93 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 


I  spit  upon  your  churches; 

I  spit  upon  your  capitalistic  institutions; 

I  spit  upon  your  laws; 

I  spit  upon  the  whole  damned  thing! 

But,  as  I  spit,  I  weep  !    I  weep !" 

"How  silly!"  said  Lady  Agatha.  "What  does 
it  mean?" 

"It  means "  began  Cleggett,  and  then  stopped. 

The  book  of  revolutionary  verse,  taken  in  conjunc 
tion  with  the  red  flag  that  had  been  displayed  and 
then  withdrawn,  made  him  wonder  if  Morris's  were 
the  headquarters  of  some  band  of  anarchists. 

But,  if  so,  why  should  this  band  show  such  an 
interest  in  the  Jasper  B.f  An  interest  so  hostile  to 
her  present  owner  and  his  men  ? 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me  what  it  means/'  said 
Captain  Abernethy,  who  had  taken  the  book  and 
was  fingering  it,  "I'd  say  it  means  young  Jones  here 
has  fell  into  bad  company.  That  don't  explain  how 
he  sneaked  into  the  hold  of  the  Jasper  B.,  nor 
what  for.  But  he  orter  have  a  doctor." 

"He  shall  have  a  physician,"  said  Cleggett.  "In 
fact,  the  Jasper  B.  needs  a  ship's  doctor." 

"It  looks  to  me,"  said  Captain  Abernethy,  "as  if 
she  did.  And  if  you  was  to  go  further,  Mr.  Cleg- 

94 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


get,  and  say  that  it  looks  as  if  she  was  liable  to 
need  a  couple  o'  trained  nurses,  too,  I'd  say  to 
you  that  if  they's  goin'  to  be  many  o'  these  kind 
o'  goin's-on  aboard  of  her  she  does  need  a  couple 
of  trained  nurses." 

"Captain,"  said  Cleggett,  "you  are  a  humane  man 
— let  me  shake  your  hand.  You  have  voiced  my 
very  thought !" 

Long  ago  Cleggett  had  resolved  that  if  Chance 
or  Providence  should  ever  gratify  his  secret  wish 
to  participate  in  stirring  adventures,  he  would  see 
to  it  that  all  his  wounded  enemies,  no  matter  how 
many  there  might  be  of  them,  received  adequate 
medical  attention.  He  had  often  been  shocked  at 
the  callousness  with  which  so  many  of  the  heroes 
of  romance  dash  blithely  into  the  next  adventure 
— though  those  whom  they  have  seriously  injured 
lie  on  all  sides  of  them  as  thick  as  autumn  leaves — 
with  only  the  most  perfunctory  consideration  of 
these  victims;  sometimes,  indeed,  with  no  thought 
of  them  at  all. 

"Something  tells  me,"  said  Cleggett  seriously, 
"that  this  intrusion  of  armed  men  is  only  a  pre 
lude.  I  have  little  doubt  of  the  hostility  of 
Morris's;  I  am  sure  that  the  men  who  hid  in  the 

95 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

hold  are  spies  from  Morris's.  I  do  not  yet  know 
the  motive  for  this  hostility.  But  the  Jasper  B. 
is  in  the  midst  of  dangers  and  mysteries.  There 
is  before  us  an  affair  of  some  magnitude.  Ere  the 
Jasper  B.  sets  sail  for  the  China  Seas,  there  may 
be  many  wounds." 

And  then  he  began  to  outline  a  plan  that  had 
flashed,  full  formed,  into  his  mind.  It  was  to  rent, 
or  purchase,  the  buildings  at  Parker's  Beach,  and 
fit  them  up  as  a  field  hospital,  with  three  or  four 
nurses  in  charge.  Lady  Agatha,  who  had  been 
listening  intently,  interrupted. 

"But— the  China  Seas,"  she  said.  "Did  I  un 
derstand  you  to  say  that  you  intend  to  set  sail  for 
the  China  Seas?" 

"That  is  the  ultimate  destination  of  the  Jasper 
B"  said  Cleggett. 

"I  have  heard — it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard 
— that  it's  a  very  dangerous  place,"  ventured  Lady 
Agatha.  "Pirates,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"Pirates,"  said  Cleggett,  "abound." 

"Well,  then,"  persisted  Lady  Agatha,  "you  are 
going  out  to  fight  them?" 

"I    should    not    be    surprised,"    said    Cleggett, 

96 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


folding  his  arms,  and  standing  with  his  feet 
spread  just  a  trifle  wider  than  usual,  "if  the  Jasper 
B.  had  a  brush  or  two  with  them.  A  brush  or 
two!" 

Lady  Agatha  regarded  him  speculatively.  But 
admiringly,  too. 

"But  those  nurses "  she  said.  "If  you're  go 
ing  to  the  China  Seas  you  can't  very  well  take 
Parker's  Beach  along." 

"I  was  coming  to  that,"  said  Cleggett,  bowing. 
"I  contemplate  a  hospital  ship — a  vessel  supplied 
with  nurses  and  lint  and  medicines,  that  will  ac 
company  the  Jasper  B.,  and  fly  the  Red  Cross 
flag." 

"But  they  are  frightful  people,  really,  those 
Chinese  pirates,  you  know,"  said  Lady  Agatha. 
"Do  you  think  they'll  quite  appreciate  a  hospital 
ship?" 

"It  is  my  duty,"  said  Cleggett,  simply.  "Whether 
they  appreciate  it  or  not,  a  hospital  ship  they  shall 
have.  This  is  the  twentieth  century.  And  al 
though  the  great  spirits  of  other  days  had  much  to 
commend  them,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  they 
knew  little  of  our  modern  humanitarianism.  It  has 
remained  for  the  twentieth  century  to  develop  that. 

97 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

And  one  owes  a  duty  to  one's  epoch  as  well  as  to 
one's  individuality." 

"But,"  repeated  Lady  Agatha,  with  a  meditative 
frown,  "they  are  really  frightful  people !" 

"There  is  good  in  all  men,"  said  Cleggett,  "even 
in  those  whom  the  stern  necessities  of  idealism 
sentence  to  death.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that  many 
a  Chinese  pirate  would,  under  other  circumstances, 
have  developed  into  a  very  contented  and  useful 
laundry-man." 

Lady  Agatha  studied  him  intently  for  a  moment. 
"Mr.  Cleggett,"  she  said,  "if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  so,  a  great  suffragist  leader  was  lost  when  fate 
made  you  a  man." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Cleggett,  bowing  again. 

He  dispatched  George — a  person  of  address  as 
well  as  a  fighter  in  whom  the  blood  of  ancient 
Greece  ran  quick  and  strong — on  a  humanitarian 
mission.  George  was  to  walk  a  mile  to  the  trolley 
line,  go  to  Fairport,  hire  a  taxicab,  and  make  all 
possible  speed  into  Manhattan.  There  he  was  to 
communicate  with  a  young  physician  of  Cleggett's 
acquaintance,  Dr.  Harry  Farnsworth. 

Dr.  Farnsworth,  as  Cleggett  knew,  was  just  out 
of  medical  school.  He  had  his  degree,  but  no 

98 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


patients.  But  he  was  bold  and  ready.  He  was,  in 
short,  just  the  lad  to  welcome  with  enthusiasm 
such  a  chance  for  active  service  as  the  cruise  of  the 
Jasper  B.  promised  to  afford. 

It  was  something  of  a  risk  to  weaken  his  little 
party  by  sending  George  away  for  several  hours. 
But  Cleggett  did  not  hesitate.  He  was  not  the  man 
to  allow  considerations  of  personal  safety  to  out 
weigh  his  devotion  to  an  ideal. 

"And  now,"  said  Cleggett,  turning  to  Lady 
Agatha,  who  had  hearkened  to  his  orders  to  George 
with  a  bright  smile  of  approval,  "we  will  dine,  and 
I  will  hear  the  rest  of  your  story,  which  was  so 
rudely  interrupted.  It  is  possible  that  together  we 
may  be  able  to  find  some  solution  of  your  problem." 

"Dine !"  exclaimed  Lady  Agatha,  eagerly.  "Yes, 
let  us  dine!  It  may  sound  incredible  to  you,  Mr. 
Cleggett,  that  the  daughter  of  an  English  peer  and 
the  widow  of  a  baronet  should  confess  that,  except 
for  your  tea,  she  has  scarcely  eaten  for  twenty- 
four  hours — but  it  is  so!" 

Then  she  said,  sadly,  with  a  sign  and  sidelong 
glance  at  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers  which 
stood  near  the  cabin  companionway  dripping 
coldly : 

99 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Until  now,  Mr.  Cleggett — until  your  aid  had 
given  me  fresh  hope  and  strength — I  had,  indeed, 
very  little  appetite." 

Cleggett  followed  her  gaze,  and  it  must  be  ad 
mitted  that  he  himself  experienced  a  momentary 
sense  of  depression  at  the  sight  of  the  box  of 
Reginald  Maltravers.  It  looked  so  damp,  it  looked 
so  chill,  it  looked  so  starkly  and  patiently  and 
malevolently  watchful  of  himself  and  Lady  Agatha. 
In  a  flash  his  lively  fancy  furnished  him  with  a 
picture  of  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers  sud 
denly  springing  upright  and  hopping  towards  him 
on  one  end  with  a  series  of  stiff  jumps  that  would 
send  drops  of  moisture  flying  from  the  cracks  and 
seams  and  make  the  ice  inside  of  it  clink  and  tinkle. 
And  the  mournful  Elmer,  now  drowsing  callously 
over  his  charge,  was  not  an  invitation  to  be  blithe. 
If  Cleggett  himself  were  so  affected  (he  mused) 
what  must  be  the  effect  of  the  box  of  Reginald 
Maltravers  upon  sensibilities  as  fine  and  delicate  as 
those  of  a  woman  like  Lady  Agatha  Fairhaven  ? 

"Could  I— if  I  might "  Lady  Agatha  hesi 
tated,  with  a  glance  towards  the  cabin.  Cleggett  in 
stantly  divined  her  thought;  for  brief  as  was  their 
acquaintance,  there  was  an  almost  psychic  accord 

100 


First  Blood  for  Cleggett 


between  his  mind  and  hers,  and  he  felt  himself 
already  answering  to  her  unspoken  wish  as  a  ship  to 
its  rudder. 

"The  cabin  is  at  your  service,"  said  Cleggett, 
for  he  understood  that  she  wished  to  dress  for 
dinner.  He  conducted  her,  with  a  touch  of  formal 
ity,  to  his  own  room  in  the  cabin,  which  he  put  at 
her  disposal,  ordering  her  steamer  trunks  to  be 
placed  in  it.  Then,  taking  with  him  some  neces 
saries  of  his  own,  he  withdrew  to  the  forecastle  to 
make  a  careful  toilet. 

It  might  not  have  occurred  to  another  man  to 
dress  for  dinner,  but  Cleggett's  character  was  an 
unusual  blend  of  delicacy  and  strength;  he  per 
ceived  subtly  that  Lady  Agatha  was  of  the  nature 
to  appreciate  this  compliment.  At  a  moment  when 
her  fortunes  were  at  a  low  ebb  what  could  more 
cheer  a  woman  and  hearten  her  than  such  a  mark 
of  consideration?  Already  Cleggett  found  himself 
asking  what  would  please  Lady  Agatha. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
A  FLAME  LEAPS  OUT  OF  THE  DARK 

KUROKI   announced    dinner;    Cleggett   en 
tered   the    captain's   mess   room    of   th* 
cabin,  where  the  cloth  was  laid,  and  a 
moment  later  Lady  Agatha  emerged  from  the  state 
room  and  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  smile. 

If  he  had  thought  her  beautiful  before,  when  she 
wore  her  plain  traveling  suit,  he  thought  her  radiant 
now,  in  the  true  sense  of  that  much  abused  word. 
For  she  flung  forth  her  charm  in  vital  radiations. 
If  Cleggett  had  possessed  a  common  mind  he  might 
have  phrased  it  to  himself  that  she  hit  a  man 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  Her  beauty  had  that  direct 
and  almost  aggressive  quality  that  is  like  a  chal 
lenge,  and  with  sophisticated  feminine  art  she  had 
contrived  that  the  dinner  gown  she  chose  for  that 
evening  should  sound  the  keynote  of  her  personality 
like  a  leitmotif  in  an  opera.  The  costume  was  a 
creation  of  white  satin,  the  folds  caught  here  and 
there  with  strings  of  pearls.  There  was  a  single 

1 02 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

large  rose  of  pink  velvet  among  the  draperies  of  the 
skirt;  a  looped  girdle  of  blue  velvet  was  the  only 
other  splash  of  color.  But  the  full-leaved,  ex 
panded  and  matured  rose  became  the  vivid  epitome 
and  illustration  of  the  woman  herself.  A  rope  of 
pearls  that  hung  down  to  her  waist  added  the  touch 
of  soft  luster  essential  to  preserve  the  picture  from 
the  reproach  of  being  too  obvious  an  assault  upon 
the  senses;  Cleggett  reflected  that  another  woman 
might  have  gone  too  far  and  spoiled  it  all  by  wear 
ing  diamonds.  Lady  Agatha  always  knew  where 
to  stop. 

"I  have  not  been  so  hungry  since  I  was  in  Hollo- 
way  Jail/'  said  Lady  Agatha.  And  she  ate  with 
a  candid  gusto  that  pleased  Cleggett,  who  loathed 
in  a  woman  a  finical  affectation  of  indifference  to 
food. 

When  Kuroki  brought  the  coffee  she  took  up 
her  own  story  again.  There  was  little  more  to 
tell. 

Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the  Cat,  it  appeared,  had 
mistaken  their  instructions.  Two  nights  after  they 
had  been  engaged  they  had  appeared  at  Lady 
Agatha's  apartment  with  the  oblong  box. 

"The  horrid  creatures  brought  it  into  my  sitting- 
103 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

room  and  laid  it  on  the  floor  before  I  could  pre 
vent  them,"  said  Lady  Agatha. 

"'What  is  this?'  I  asked  them,  in  bewilder 
ment. 

"They  replied  that  they  had  killed  Reginald 
Maltravers  according  to  orders,  and  had  brought 
him  to  me. 

"'Orders!'  I  cried.  'You  had  no  such  orders.' 
Elmer,  who  lived  on  the  same  floor,  was  absent 
temporarily,  having  taken  Teddy  out  for  an  airing. 
I  was  distracted.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
'Your  orders/  I  said,  'were  to — to '  " 

She  broke  off.  "What  was  it  that  Elmer  told 
them  to  do,  and  what  was  it  that  they  did?"  she 
mused,  perplexed.  She  called  Elmer  into  the  cabin. 

"Elmer,"  she  said,  "exactly  what  was  it  that  you 
told  your  friends  to  do  to  him?  And  what  was 
it  that  they  did?  I  can  never  remember  the  words." 

"Poke  him,"  said  Elmer,  addressing  Cleggett.  "I 
tells  these  ginks  to  poke  him.  But  these  ginks  tells 
th'  little  dame  here  they  t'inks  I  has  said  to  croak 
him.  So  they  goes  an'  croaks  him.  D'  youse  get 
me?" 

Being  assured  that  they  got  him,  Elmer  down- 
heartedly  withdrew. 

104 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

"At  any  rate,"  continued  Lady  Agatha,  "there 
was  that  terrible  box  upon  my  sitting-room  floor, 
and  there  were  those  two  degraded  wretches.  The 
callous  beasts  stood  above  the  box  apparently  quite 
insensible  to  the  ethical  enormity  of  their  crime. 
But  they  were  keen  enough  to  see  that  it  might  be 
used  as  a  lever  with  which  to  force  more  money 
from  me.  For  when  I  demanded  that  they  take 
the  box  away  with  them  and  dispose  of  it,  they  only 
laughed  at  me.  They  said  that  they  had  had  enough 
of  that  box.  They  had  delivered  the  goods — that 
was  the  phrase  they  used — and  they  wanted  more 
money.  And  they  said  they  would  not  leave  until 
they  got  it.  They  threatened,  unless  I  gave  them 
the  money  at  once,  to  leave  the  place  and  get  word 
to  the  police  of  the  presence  of  the  box  in  my  apart 
ment. 

"I  was  in  no  mental  condition  to  combat  and  get 
the  better  of  them.  I  felt  myself  to  be  entirely 
in  their  power.  I  saw  only  the  weakness  of  my  own 
position.  I  could  not,  at  the  moment,  see  the  weak 
spots  in  theirs.  Elmer  might  have  advised  me — but 
he  was  not  there.  The  miserable  episode  ended 
with  my  giving  them  a  thousand  dollars  each,  and 
they  left. 

105 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Alone  with  that  box,  my  panic  increased.  When 
Elmer  returned  with  Teddy,  I  told  him  what  had 
happened.  He  wished  to  open  the  box,  having  a 
vague  idea  that  perhaps  after  all  it  did  not  really 
contain  what  they  had  said  was  in  it.  But  I  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  its  being  opened.  I  refused 
to  allow  Elmer  to  look  into  it. 

"I  determined  that  I  would  ship  the  box  at  once 
to  some  fictitious  personage,  and  then  take  the  next 
ship  back  to  England. 

"I  hastily  wrote  a  card,  which  I  tacked  on 
the  box,  consigning  it  to  Miss  Genevieve  Pringle, 
Newark,  N.  J.  The  name  was  the  first  invention 
that  came  into  my  head.  Newark  I  had  heard  of. 
I  knew  vaguely  that  it  was  west  of  New  York,  but 
whether  it  was  twenty  miles  west  or  two  thousand 
miles,  I  did  not  stop  to  think.  I  am  ignorant  of 
American  geography. 

"But  no  sooner  had  the  box  been  taken  away 
than  I  began  to  be  uneasy.  I  was  more  frightened 
with  it  gone  than  I  had  been  with  it  present.  I 
imagined  it  being  dropped  and  broken,  and  reveal 
ing  everything.  And  then  it  occurred  to  me  that 
even  if  I  should  get  out  of  the  country,  the  secret 
was  bound  to  be  discovered  some  time.  I  do  not 

106 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

know  why  I  had  not  thought  of  that  before — but 
I  was  distracted.  Having  got  rid  of  the  box,  I  was 
already  wild  to  get  it  into  my  possession  again. 

"I  confided  my  fears  to  Elmer,  and  was  surprised 
to  learn  from  him  that  Newark  is  very  near  New 
York.  We  took  a  taxicab  at  once,  and  were  wait 
ing  at  the  freight  depot  in  Newark  when  the  thing 
arrived.  There  I  claimed  it  in  the  name  of  Miss 
Genevieve  Pringle. 

"It  became  apparent  to  me  that  I  must  manage 
its  final  disposition  myself.  Elmer  hired  for  me 
the  vehicle  in  which  we  arrived  here,  and  we  started 
back  to  New  York. 

"But  the  driver,  from  the  first,  was  suspicious  of 
the  box.  His  suspicions  were  increased  when,  upon 
returning  to  my  apartment  hotel,  where  I  now  de 
cided  to  keep  the  box  until  I  could  think  out  a 
coherent  plan  of  action,  the  manager  of  the  hotel 
made  inquiries.  The  manager  had  seen  the  box 
brought  in,  and  taken  out  again,  before.  Its  re 
turn  struck  him  as  odd.  He  offered  to  store  it  for 
me  in  the  basement.  I  took  alarm  at  once.  Natur 
ally,  he  questioned  me  more  closely.  I  was  un 
ready  in  my  answers.  His  inquiries  excited  and 
alarmed  me.  I  felt  that  any  instant  I  might  do 

107 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

something  to  betray  myself.  I  cut  the  manager 
short,  paid  my  bill,  got  my  luggage,  and  ordered  the 
chauffeur  to  drive  to  the  Grand  Central  Station. 
But  when  we  had  gone  three  or  four  blocks,  I  said 
to  him:  'Stop! — I  do  not  wish  to  go  to  the  Grand 
Central  Station.  Drive  me  to  Poughkeepsie !'  I 
wished  a  chance  to  think.  I  knew  Poughkeepsie 
was  not  far  from  New  York  City,  but  I  supposed 
it  was  far  enough  to  give  me  a  chance  to  determine 
what  to  do  next  by  the  time  we  arrived  there. 

"But  I  could  not  think  coherently.  I  could  only 
feel  and  fear.  The  drive  was  longer  than  I  had 
expected,  but  when  we  arrived  at  Poughkeepsie  and 
the  chauffeur  asked  me  again  what  disposition  to 
make  of  the  box,  I  was  unable  to  answer  him. 
Thereupon  he  insolently  demanded  an  enormous 
fare. 

"I  could  not  choose  but  pay  it.  For  four  days 
we  went  from  place  to  place,  in  and  about  New 
York  City's  suburbs — now  in  town  and  now  in  the 
country — crossing  rivers  again  and  again  on  ferry 
boats — stopping  at  hotels,  road  houses  and  all  man 
ner  of  places — dashing  through  Brooklyn  and  out 
among  the  villages  of  Long  Island — and  with  the 
fear  on  me  that  we  were  being  followed.  Elmer 

108 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

and  I  were  continually  on  the  lookout  for  some 
way  to  dispose  of  the  box,  but  nothing  presented 
itself.  The  driver,  who  had  become  more  and  more 
impudent  in  his  attitude  and  outrageous  in  his 
charges,  was  now  practically  a  spy  upon  us.  The 
necessity  for  ice  made  frequent  stops  imperative; 
at  the  same  time  the  increasing  fear  of  pursuit  made 
it  agony  for  me  to  stop  anywhere. 

"Today,  at  a  road  house  thirty  or  forty  miles 
from  here,  I  made  certain  that  I  was  pursued.  The 
very  man  from  whom  I  had  claimed  the  box  at  the 
railway  goods  station  in  Newark  confronted  me. 
It  appears,  from  what  Elmer  says,  that  he  is  taking 
a  holiday  and  is  visiting  his  brother,  who  is  the 
proprietor  of  the  road  house. 

"And  the  person  who  is  pursuing  me  is — a  Miss 
Genevieve  Pringle! 

"As  fate  would  have  it,  there  lives  in  Newark  a 
person  who  really  owns  that  name  which  I  thought 
I  had  invented.  It  seems  that  she  had  been  expect 
ing  a  shipment,  and  had  called  to  inquire  for  it; 
upon  learning  that  a  box  had  been  delivered  to  a 
person  in  her  name  she  had  taken  up  the  trail  at 
once.  Having  somehow  traced  me  to  Long  Island, 
she  had  actually  made  inquiries  at  this  very  road 

109 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

house  some  hours  earlier.  The  railway  employee, 
I  am  certain,  would  have  denounced  me  at  once — 
he  would  have  accused  me  of  theft,  and  would  have 
endeavored  to  have  me  held  until  he  could  get  into 
communication  with  Miss  Pringle  or  with  the 
authorities — but  I  bought  from  him  a  promise  of 
silence.  It  cost  me  another  large  sum. 

"A  few  hours  ago  the  chauffeur,  divining  from  a 
conversation  between  Elmer  and  me  that  I  was  run 
ning  short  of  ready  money,  deserted  me  here.  You 
know  the  rest." 

Her  voice  trailed  off  into  a  tired  whisper  as  she 
finished,  and  with  her  elbows  on  the  table  Lady 
Agatha  wearily  supported  her  head  in  her  hands. 
Her  attitude  acknowledged  defeat.  She  was  de 
spairingly  certain  that  she  would  never  see  the  last 
of  the  box  which  she  believed  to  contain  Reginald 
Maltravers. 

Cleggett  did  not  hesitate  an  instant. 

"Lady  Agatha,"  he  said,  "the  Jasper  B.  is  at  your 
service  as  long  as  you  may  require  the  ship.  The 
cabin  is  your  home  until  we  arrive  at  a  solution  of 
your  difficulties." 

His  glance  and  manner  added  what  his  tongue 
left  unuttered — that  the  commander  of  the  ship  was 

1 10 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

henceforth  her  devoted  cavalier.  But  she  under 
stood. 

She  extended  her  hand.  Her  answer  was  on  her 
lips.  But  at  that  instant  the  jarring  roar  of  an 
explosion  struck  the  speech  from  them. 

The  blast  was  evidently  near,  though  muffled. 
The  earth  shook;  a  tremor  ran  through  the  Jasper 
B.;  the  glasses  leaped  and  rang  upon  the  table. 
Cleggett,  followed  by  Lady  Agatha,  darted  up  the 
companionway. 

As  Cleggett  reached  the  deck  there  was  a  second 
shock,  and  he  beheld  a  flame  leap  out  of  the  earth 
itself — a  sudden  sword  of  fire  thrust  into  the  night 
from  the  midst  of  the  sandy  plain  before  him.  The 
light  that  stabbed  and  was  gone  in  an  instant  was 
about  halfway  between  the  Jasper  B.  and  Morris's. 
A  second  after,  a  missile — which  Cleggett  later 
learned  was  a  piece  of  rock  the  size  of  a  man's 
head — fell  with  a  splintering  crash  upon  and 
through  the  wooden  platform  beside  the  Jasper  B., 
not  thirty  feet  from  where  Cleggett  stood ;  another 
splashed  into  the  canal.  The  next  day  Cleggett 
saw  several  of  these  fragments  lying  about  the 
plain. 

Calling  to  his  men  to  bring  lanterns — for  the 
in 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

night  had  fallen  dark  and  cloudy — Cleggett  ran 
towards  the  place.  Lady  Agatha,  refusing  to  re 
main  behind,  went  with  them.  Moving  lights  and 
a  stir  of  activity  at  Morris's,  and  the  gleam  of  lan 
terns  on  board  the  Annabel  Lee,  showed  Cleggett 
that  his  neighbors  likewise  were  excited. 

But  if  Cleggett  had  expected  an  easy  solution  of 
this  astonishing  eruption  he  was  disappointed.  Ar 
rived  at  the  scene  of  the  explosion,  he  found  that 
its  nature  was  such  as  to  tease  and  balk  his  faculties 
of  analysis.  The  blast  had  blown  a  hole  into  the 
ground,  certainly;  but  this  hole  was  curiously  filled. 
Two  large  bowlders  that  leaned  towards  each  other 
had  stood  on  top  of  the  ground.  These  had  been 
split  and  shattered  into  many  fragments.  A  few 
pieces,  like  the  one  that  came  so  near  Cleggett,  had 
been  flung  to  a  distance,  but  for  the  most  part  the 
shivered  crowns  and  broken  bulks  had  been  served 
otherwise;  the  force  of  the  blast  had  disintegrated 
them,  but  had  not  scattered  them;  the  greater  part 
of  this  newly-rent  stone  had  toppled  into  the  fissure 
in  the  ground,  and  lay  there  mixed  with  earth,  al 
most  filling  the  hole.  It  was  impossible  to  de 
termine  just  where  and  how  the  blast  had  been  set 
off;  the  rocks  hid  the  facts.  But  Cleggett  judged 

112 


A  Flame  Leaps  Out  of  the  Dark 

that  the  force  must  have  come  from  below  the 
bowlders;  mightily  smitten  from  beneath,  they  had 
collapsed  into  the  cavern  suddenly  opening  there, 
as  a  building  might  collapse  into  and  fill  a  cellar. 
The  pieces  that  had  been  thrown  high  into  the  air 
were  insignificant  in  proportion  to  the  great  bulk 
which  had  settled  into  the  hole  and  made  its  origin 
a  mystery. 

As  Cleggett,  bewildered,  stood  and  gazed  upon 
the  mass  of  rock  and  earth,  Cap'n  Abernethy  gave 
a  cry  and  pointed  at  something  with  his  finger. 
Cleggett,  looking  at  the  spot  indicated,  saw  upon 
the  edge  of  this  singular  fracture  in  the  earth  a 
thing  that  sent  a  quick  chill  of  horror  and  repulsion 
to  his  heart.  It  was  a  dead  hand,  roughly  severed 
between  the  wrist  and  the  elbow.  The  back  of  it 
was  uppermost ;  the  fingers  were  clenched.  Cleggett 
set  down  his  lantern  beside  it  and  turned  it  over 
with  his  foot. 

The  dead  fingers  clutched  a  scrap  of  something 
yellow.  On  one  of  them  was  a  large  and  peculiar 
ring. 

"My  God!"  murmured  Lady  Agatha,  grasping 
Cleggett  convulsively  by  the  shoulder,  "that  is  the 
Earl  of  Claiborne's  signet  ring!" 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

But  Cleggett  scarcely  realized  what  she  had  said, 
until  she  repeated  her  words.  Fighting  down  his 
repugnance,  he  took  from  the  lifeless  and  stubborn 
fingers  the  yellow  scrap  of  paper. 

It  was  a  torn  and  crumpled  twenty-dollar  bill. 


CHAPTER    IX 
MYSTERIES  MULTIPLY 

DIRECTING   Kuroki   to   remove   the   ring 
and  bring  it  along,  Cleggett  gave  his  arm 
to  Lady  Agatha  and  led  the  way  back  to 
the  Jasper  B.     Neither  said  anything  to  the  point 
until,   seated  in  the  cabin,   with  the  twenty-dollar 
bill  and  the  ring  before  them,  Cleggett  picked  up 
the  latter  and  remarked  : 

"You  are  certain  of  the  identity  of  this  ring?" 

"Certain,"  she  said.  "I  could  not  mistake  it. 
There  is  no  other  like  it,  anywhere." 

It  was  a  very  heavy  gold  band,  set  with  a  large 
piece  of  dark  green  jade  which  was  deeply  graven 
on  its  surface  with  the  Claiborne  crest. 

"Was  it,"  asked  Cleggett,  "in  the  possession  of 
Reginald  Maltravers?" 

"It  might  have  been,  readily  enough,"  she  said, 
"although  I  had  not  known  that  it  was.  Still,  that 
does  not  explain.  .  .  ."  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"5 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"There  are  a  number  of  things  unexplained,"  an 
swered  Cleggett,  "and  the  presence  of  this  ring,  and 
the  manner  in  which  it  has  come  into  our  possession, 
are  not  the  most  mysterious  of  them.  The  explosion 
itself  appears  to  me,  just  now,  at  least,  hard  to 
account  for." 

"The  manner  in  which  people  get  into  and  out 
of  the  hold  of  your  vessel  is  also  obscure,"  said 
Lady  Agatha. 

"Nor  is  the  motive  of  their  hostility  clear,"  said 
Cleggett. 

He  picked  up  the  piece  of  paper  money. 
Something  about  the  feel  of  it  aroused  his 
suspicions.  He  called  Elmer,  and  when  that  ex 
ponent  of  reform  entered  the  cabin,  asked  him 
bluntly : 

"Did  you  ever  have  anything  to  do  with  bad 
money?" 

Elmer  intimated  that  he  might  know  it  if  he 
saw  it. 

"Then  look  at  that,  please." 

Elmer  took  the  torn  bill,  produced  a  penknife, 
slit  the  yellow  paper,  and  cut  out  of  it  one  of  the 
small  hair-like  fibers  with  which  the  texture  of 
such  notes  is  sprinkled.  After  wetting  this  fiber 

116 


Mysteries  Multiply 


and  mangling  it  with  his  penknife  he  gave  his  judg 
ment  briefly. 

"Queer,"  he  said. 

"But  what  does  that  explain?"  asked  Lady  Aga 
tha.  "Perhaps  the  Earl  of  Claiborne  came  to  this 
country  and  took  to  making  counterfeit  money  in 
the  hold  of  the  Jasper  B.f  into  and  out  of  which 
he  stole  like  a  ghost?  Finally  he  got  tired  of  it 
and  blew  himself  up  with  a  bomb  out  there,  leaving 
his  ring  with  a  piece  of  the  money  intact?  Is 
that  the  explanation  we  get  out  of  our  facts?  Be 
cause,  you  know,"  she  added,  as  Cleggett  did  not 
smile,  "all  that  is  absurd!" 

"Yes,"  said  Cleggett,  still  refusing  to  be  amused, 
"but  out  of  all  this  jumble  of  mystery,  just  one 
certain  thing  appears." 

"And  that  is?" 

"That  our  destinies  are  somehow  linked!" 

"Our  destinies?    Linked?" 

She  gave  him  a  swift  look,  and  as  suddenly 
dropped  her  eyes  again.  Cleggett  could  not  tell 
whether  she  was  offended  or  not  by  his  expression 
of  the  idea. 

"The  same  people,"  said  Cleggett,  after  a  brief 
pause,  "who  are  so  persistently  hostile  to  me  are 

117 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

also  in  some  manner  connected  with  your  own  mis 
fortunes.  Their  possession  of  this  ring  shows  that." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  following  his  thought,  "that  is 
true — whoever  set  off  that  bomb  was  also  wearing 
this  ring,  or  was  very  near  the  person  who  was  wear 
ing  it.  And,"  with  a  shudder  which  conveyed  to 
Cleggett  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  box  on  deck, 
"it  couldn't  have  been  Reginald  Maltravers !" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Cleggett,  "someone  was  sneak 
ing  over  from  Morris's  with  the  intention  of  de 
stroying  the  Jasper  B.,  and  was  himself  the  victim 
of  a  premature  explosion  as  he  crouched  behind 
the  rocks  to  await  his  opportunity." 

"But  why,"  puzzled  Lady  Agatha,  with  con 
tracted  brows,  "should  a  dynamiter,  anarchistic  or 
otherwise,  be  holding  a  counterfeit  twenty-dollar 
bill  in  his  hand  as  he  went  about  his  work?" 

Cleggett  brooded  in  silence. 

"We  are  in  the  midst  of  mysteries,"  he  said 
finally.  "They  are  multiplying  about  us." 

He  was  about  to  say  more.  He  was  about  to 
express  again  his  belief  that  the/  had  been  flung 
together  by  fate.  The  sense  that  their  stories  were 
inextricably  intertwined,  that  they  must  hencefor 
ward  march  on  as  one  mystery  towards  a  solution, 

118 


Mysteries  Multiply 


was  exhilarating  to  him.  But  how  was  it  possible 
that  she  should  feel  the  same  sense  of  pleasure  in 
the  fact  that  they  faced  dangers,  seen  and  unseen, 
together  ? 

Together ! — How  the  thought  thrilled  him ! 

On  deck,  Elmer,  before  returning  to  the  box  of 
Reginald  Maltravers,  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
grasped  Cleggett  by  the  hand. 

"Bo/'  he  said,  "I'm  wit'  youse.  I'm  wit'  youse 
the  whole  way.  Any  friend  of  the  little  dame  is  a 
friend  of  mine.  She's  a  square  little  dame.  D' 
youse  get  me?" 

"Thank  you,"  said  Cleggett,  more  affected  than 
he  would  have  cared  to  own.  "Thank  you,  my 
loyal  fellow." 

Cleggett  established  a  watch  on  deck  that  night, 
with  a  relief  every  two  hours.  Towards  morning 
George  returned,  with  Dr.  Farnsworth  and  a  nurse. 
This  nurse,  Miss  Antoinette  Medley,  was  a  black- 
eyed,  slender  girl  with  pretty  hands  and  white  teeth ; 
she  gestured  a  great  deal  and  smiled  often.  She 
and  Dr.  Farnsworth  devoted  themselves  at  once 
to  the  young  anarchist  poet,  who  had  come  out  of 
his  stupor,  indeed,  but  was  now  babbling  weakly 
in  the  delirium  of  fever. 

119 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

The  night  was  not  a  cheerful  one,  and  morning 
came  gloomily  out  of  a  gray  bank  of  mist.  Cleg- 
gett,  as  he  looked  about  the  boat  in  the  first  pale 
light,  could  not  resist  a  slight  feeling  of  depression, 
courageous  as  he  was.  The  wounded  man  gib 
bered  in  a  bunk  in  the  forecastle.  The  box  of 
Reginald  Maltravers  stood  on  one  end,  leaning 
against  the  port  side  of  the  cabin,  and  dripped 
steadily.  Elmer,  wrapped  in  blankets,  lay  on  the 
deck  near  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers,  looking 
even  more  dejected  in  slumber  than  when  his  eyes 
were  open.  Teddy,  the  Pomeranian,  was  snuggled 
against  Elmer's  feet,  but,  as  if  a  prey  to  frightful 
nightmares,  the  little  dog  twitched  and  whined  in 
his  sleep  from  time  to  time.  These  were  the  ap 
parent  facts,  and  these  facts  were  set  to  a  melan 
choly  tune  by  the  long-drawn,  dismal  snores  of 
Cap'n  Abernethy,  which  rose  and  fell,  and  rose  and 
fell,  and  rose  again  like  the  sad  and  wailing  song 
of  some  strange  bird  bereft  of  a  beloved  mate. 
They  were  the  music  for,  and  the  commentary  on, 
what  Cleggett  beheld;  Cap'n  Abernethy  seemed  to 
be  saying,  with  these  snores:  "If  you  was  to  ask 
me,  I'd  say  it  ain't  a  cheerful  ship  this  mornin', 
Mr.  Cleggett,  it  ain't  a  cheerful  ship." 

120 


Mysteries  Multiply 


But  Cleggett's  nature  was  too  lively  and  vigorous 
to  remain  clouded  for  long.  By  the  time  the  red 
disk  of  the  sun  had  crept  above  the  eastern  horizon 
he  had  shaken  off  his  fit  of  the  blues.  The  sun 
looked  large  and  bland  and  friendly,  and,  some 
how,  the  partisan  of  integrity  and  honor.  He  drew 
strength  from  it.  Cleggett,  like  all  poetic  souls, 
was  responsive  to  these  familiar  recurrent  phe 
nomena  of  nature. 

The  sun  did  him  another  office.  It  showed  him  a 
peculiar  tableau  vivant  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
canal,  near  the  house  boat  Annabel  Lee.  This  con 
sisted  of  three  men,  two  of  them  naked  except  for 
bathing  trunks  of  the  most  abbreviated  sort,  run 
ning  swiftly  and  earnestly  up  and  down  the  edge 
of  the  canal.  He  saw  with  astonishment  that  the 
two  men  in  bathing  suits  were  handcuffed  together, 
the  left  wrist  of  one  to  the  right  wrist  of  the  other. 
A  rope  was  tied  to  the  handcuffs,  and  the  other  end 
of  it  was  held  by  the  third  man,  who  was  dressed  in 
ordinary  tweeds.  The  third  man  had  a  magazine 
rifle  over  one  shoulder.  He  followed  about  twenty 
feet  behind  the  two  men  in  bathing  suits  and  drove 
them. 

Cleggett  perceived  that  the  man  who  was  doing 
121 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  driving  was  the  same  who  had  watched  the 
Jasper  B.  so  persistently  the  day  before  from  the 
deck  of  the  Annabel  Lee.  He  was  middle-sized, 
and  inclined  to  be  stout,  and  yet  he  followed  his 
strange  team  with  no  apparent  effort.  Cleggett 
saw  through  the  glass  that  he  had  a  rather  heavy 
black  mustache,  and  was  again  struck  by  some 
thing  vaguely  familiar  about  him.  The  two  men  in 
bathing  suits  were  slender  and  undersized;  they 
did  not  look  at  all  like  athletes,  and  although  they 
moved  as  fast  as  they  could  it  was  apparent  that 
they  got  no  pleasure  out  of  it.  They  ran  with  their 
heads  hanging  down,  and  it  seemed  to  Cleggett 
that  they  were  quarreling  as  they  ran,  for  occa 
sionally  one  of  them  would  give  a  vicious  jerk  to 
the  handcuffs  that  would  almost  upset  the  other, 
and  that  must  have  hurt  the  wrists  of  both  of  them. 
As  Cleggett  watched,  the  driver  pulled  them  up 
short,  and  waved  them  towards  the  canal.  They 
stopped,  and  it  was  apparent  that  they  were  balking 
and  expostulating.  But  the  driver  was  inexorable. 
He  went  near  to  them  and  threatened  their  bare 
backs  with  the  slack  of  the  rope.  Gingerly  and 
shiveringly  they  stepped  into  the  cold  water,  while 
the  driver  stood  on  the  bank.  The  water  was  up 

122 


Mysteries  Multiply 


to  their  waists  and  he  had  to  threaten  them  again 
with  his  rope  before  they  would  duck  their  heads 
under. 

When  he  allowed  them  on  shore  again  they  needed 
no  urging,  it  was  evident,  to  make  them  hit  up  a 
good  rate  of  speed,  and  back  and  forth  along  the 
bank  they  sprinted.  But  the  cold  bath  had  not  im 
proved  their  temper,  for  suddenly  one  of  them 
leaped  and  kicked  sidewise  at  the  other,  with  the 
result  that  both  toppled  to  the  ground.  The  stout 
man  was  upon  them  in  an  instant,  hazing  them  with 
the  rope  end.  He  drove  them,  still  lashing  out  at 
each  other  with  their  bare  feet,  into  the  water 
again,  and  after  a  more  prolonged  ducking  whipped 
them,  at  a  plunging  gallop,  upon  the  Annabel  Lee, 
where  they  disappeared  from  Cleggett's  view. 

While  Cleggett  was  still  wondering  what  sig 
nificance  could  underlie  this  unusual  form  of  ma 
tutinal  exercise,  Dr.  Farnsworth  came  out  of  the 
forecastle  and  beckoned  to  him.  The  young  Doctor 
had  a  red  Vandyck  beard  sedulously  cultivated  in 
the  belief  that  it  would  make  him  look  older  and 
inspire  the  confidence  of  patients,  and  a  shock  of 
dark  red  hair  which  he  rumpled  vigorously  when  he 
was  thinking.  He  was  rumpling  it  now. 

123 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Who's  'Loge'?"  he  demanded. 

"Loge?"  repeated  Cleggett. 

"You  don't  know  anyone  named  'Loge/  or  Lo 
gan?" 

"No.     Why?" 

"Whoever  he  is,  'Loge'  is  very  much  on  the  mind 
of  our  young  friend  in  there,"  said  Farnsworth, 
with  a  movement  of  his  head  towards  the  fore 
castle.  "And  I  wouldn't  be  surprised,  to  judge 
from  the  boy's  delirium,  if  'Loge'  had  something  to 
do  with  all  the  hell  that's  been  raised  around  your 
ship.  Come  in  and  listen  to  this  fellow." 

Miss  Medley,  the  nurse,  was  sitting  beside  the 
wounded  youth's  bunk,  endeavoring  to  soothe  and 
restrain  him.  The  young  anarchist,  whose  eyes 
were  bright  with  fever,  was  talking  rapidly  in  a 
weak  but  high-pitched  singsong  voice. 

"He's  off  on  the  poems  again,"  said  the  Doctor, 
after  listening  a  moment.  "But  wait,  he'll  get  back 
to  Loge.  It's  been  one  or  the  other  for  an  hour 


now." 


"I  spit  upon  your  flag,"  shrilled  Giuseppe  Jones, 
feebly  declamatory.  "  'I  spit — I  spit — but,  as  I 
spit,  I  weep.' '  He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then 
began  at  the  beginning  and  repeated  all  of  the  lines 

124 


Mysteries  Multiply 


which  Cleggett  had  read  from  the  little  book.  One 
gathered  that  it  was  Giuseppe's  favorite  poem. 

"'I  spit  upon  the  whole  damned  thing !' "  he 
shrilled,  and  then  with  a  sad  shake  of  his  head : 
"But,  as  I  spit,  I  weep!" 

If  the  poem  was  Giuseppe's  favorite  poem,  this 
was  evidently  his  favorite  line,  for  he  said  it  over 
and  over  again — "  'But,  as  I  spit,  I  weep'  " — in  a 
breathless  babble  that  was  very  wearing  on  the 
nerves. 

But  suddenly  he  interrupted  himself;  the  poems 
seemed  to  pass  from  his  mind.  "Loge!"  he  said, 
raising  himself  on  his  elbow  and  staring,  with  a 
frown  not  at,  but  through,  Cleggett:  "Logan — it 
isn't  square!" 

There  was  suffering  and  perplexity  in  his  gaze; 
he  was  evidently  living  over  again  some  painful 
scene. 

"I'm  a  revolutionist,  Loge,  not  a  crook !  I  won't 
do  it,  Loge!" 

Watching  him,  it  was  impossible  not  to  under 
stand  that  the  struggle,  which  his  delirium  made 
real  and  present  again,  had  stamped  itself  into  the 
texture  of  his  spirit.  "You  shouldn't  ask  it,  Loge," 
he  said.  The  crisis  of  the  conflict  which  he  was 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

living  over  passed  presently,  and  he  murmured, 
with  contracted  brows,  and  as  if  talking  to  himself : 
"Is  Loge  a  crook  ?  A  crook  ?"  But  after  a  moment 
of  this  he  returned  again  to  a  rapid  repetition  of 
the  phrase:  "I'm  a  revolutionist,  not  a  crook — 
not  a  crook — not  a  crook — a  revolutionist,  not  a 

crook,  Loge,  not  a  crook "  Once  he  varied  it, 

crying  with  a  quick,  hot  scorn:  "I'll  cut  their 
throats  and  be  damned  to  them,  but  don't  ask  me 
to  steal/'  And  then  he  was  off  again  to  declaim 
ing  his  poetry :  "I  spit,  but,  as  I  spit,  I  weep !" 

But  as  Cleggett  and  the  Doctor  listened  to  him 
the  youth's  ravings  suddenly  took  a  new  form.  He 
ceased  to  babble;  terror  expanded  the  pupils  of  his 
eyes  and  he  pointed  at  vacancy  with  a  shaking  fin 
ger.  "Stop  it!"  he  cried  in  a  croaking  whisper, 
"Stop  it!  It's  his  skull — it's  Loge's  skull  come 
alive.  Stop  it,  I  say,  it's  come  alive  and  getting 
bigger."  With  a  violent  effort  he  raised  himself 
before  the  nurse  could  prevent  him,  shrinking  back 
from  the  horrid  hallucination  which  pressed  to 
wards  him,  and  then  fell  prone  and  senseless  on  the 
bunk. 

"God! — his  wounds!"  cried  the  Doctor,  starting 
forward.  As  Farnsworth  had  feared,  they  had 

126 


Mysteries  Multiply 


broken  open  and  were  bleeding  again.  "It's  a  tick 
lish  thing,"  said  Farnsworth,  rumpling  his  hair. 
"If  I  give  him  enough  sedative  to  keep  him  quiet 
his  heart  may  stop  any  time.  If  I  don't,  he'll 
thrash  himself  to  pieces  in  his  delirium  before  the 
day's  over." 

But  Cleggett  scarcely  heeded  the  Doctor.  The 
reference  to  "Loge's"  skull  had  flashed  a  sudden 
light  into  his  mind.  Whatever  else  "Loge"  was, 
Cleggett  had  little  doubt  that  "Loge"  was  the  tall 
man  with  the  stoop  shoulders  and  the  odd,  skull- 
shaped  scarfpin,  for  whom  he  had  conceived  at  first 
sight  such  a  tingling  hatred — the  same  fellow  who 
had  so  ruthlessly  manhandled  the  flaxen-haired 
Heinrich  on  the  roof  of  the  verandah  the  day 
before. 


CHAPTER   X 
IN  THE  ENEMY'S  CAME 

AT  seven  o'clock  that  morning  five  big- 
bodied  automobile  trucks  rolled  up  in  a 
thundering  procession.  As  they  hove  in 
sight  on  the  starboard  quarter  and  dropped  anchor 
near  the  Jasper  B.,  Cleggett  recalled  that  this  was 
the  day  which  Cap'n  Abernethy  had  set  for  getting 
the  sticks  and  sails  into  the  vessel.  In  the  hurry 
and  excitement  of  recent  events  aboard  the  ship 
he  had  almost  forgotten  it. 

A  score  of  men  scrambled  from  the  trucks  and 
began  to  haul  out  of  them  all  the  essentials  of  a 
shipyard.  Wheel,  rudder,  masts,  spars,  bowsprit, 
quantities  of  rope  and  cable  followed — in  fact, 
every  conceivable  thing  necessary  to  convert  the 
Jasper  B.  from  a  hulk  into  a  properly  rigged  schoo 
ner.  Cleggett,  with  a  pith  and  brevity  character 
istic  of  the  man,  had  given  his  order  in  one 
sentence. 

"Make  arrangements  to  get  the  sails  and  masts 
128 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


into  her  in  one  day,"  he  had  told  Captain  Aber- 
nethy. 

It  was  in  the  same  large  and  simple  spirit  that  a 
Russian  Czar  once  laid  a  ruler  across  the  map  of 
his  empire  and,  drawing  a  straight  line  from  Mos 
cow  to  Petersburg,  commanded  his  engineers: 
"Build  me  a  railroad  to  run  like  that."  Genius  has 
winged  conceptions;  it  sees  things  as  a  completed 
whole  from  the  first;  it  is  only  mediocrity  which 
permits  itself  to  be  lost  in  details.  Cleggett  was 
like  the  Romanoffs  in  his  ability  to  go  straight  to 
the  point,  but  he  had  none  of  the  Romanoff 
cruelty. 

Captain  Abernethy  had  made  his  arrangements 
accordingly.  If  it  pleased  Cleggett  to  have  a  small 
manufacturing  plant  brought  to  the  Jasper  B.  in 
stead  of  having  the  Jasper  B.  towed  to  a  shipyard, 
it  was  Abernethy's  business  as  his  chief  executive 
officer  to  see  that  this  was  done.  The  Captain  had 
let  the  contract  to  an  enterprising  and  businesslike 
fellow,  Watkins  by  name,  who  had  at  once  looked 
the  vessel  over,  taken  the  necessary  measurements, 
and  named  a  good  round  sum  for  the  job.  With 
several  times  the  usual  number  of  skilled  workmen 
employed  at  double  the  usual  rate  of  pay,  he  guaran- 

129 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

teed  to  do  in  ten  hours  what  might  ordinarily  have 
taken  a  week. 

Under  the  leadership  of  this  capable  Watkins, 
the  workmen  rushed  at  the  vessel  with  the  dash 
and  vim  of  a  gang  of  circus  employees  engaged  in 
putting  up  a  big  tent  and  making  ready  for  a  show. 
To  a  casual  observer  it  might  have  seemed  a  scene 
of  confusion.  But  in  reality  the  work  jumped  for 
ward  with  order  and  precision,  for  the  position  of 
every  bolt,  chain,  nail,  cord,  piece  of  iron  and  bit 
of  wood  had  been  calculated  beforehand  to  a  nicety; 
there  was  not  a  wasted  movement  of  saw,  adze,  or 
hammer.  The  Jasper  B.,  in  short,  had  been  meas 
ured  accurately  for  a  suit  of  clothes,  the  clothes 
had  been  made ;  they  were  now  merely  being  put  on. 

Refreshed  by  the  first  sound  sleep  she  had  been 
able  to  obtain  for  several  nights,  Lady  Agatha 
joined  Cleggett  at  an  eight-o'clock  breakfast.  It 
was  the  first  of  May,  and  warm  and  bright;  in  a 
simple  morning  dress  of  pink  linen  Lady  Agatha 
stirred  in  Cleggett  a  vague  recollection  of  one  of 
Tennyson's  earlier  poems.  The  exact  phrases 
eluded  him;  perhaps,  indeed,  it  was  the  underlying 
sentiment  of  nearly  all  of  Tennyson's  earlier  poems 
of  which  she  reminded  him — those  lyrics  which 

130 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


are  at  once  so  romantic  and  so  irreproachable 
morally. 

"We  must  give  you  Americans  credit  for  imagi 
nation  at  any  rate,"  she  said  smilingly,  making  her 
Pomeranian  sit  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  beg  for  a 
morsel  of  crisp  bacon.  "I  awake  in  a  boatyard 
after  having  gone  to  sleep  in  a  dismantled  barge." 

"Barge!"  The  word  "barge"  struck  Cleggett  un 
expectedly;  he  was  not  aware  that  he  had  given  a 
start  and  frowned. 

"Mercy !"  exclaimed  Lady  Agatha,  "how  the  dear 
man  glares!  What  should  I  call  it?  Scow?" 

"Scow?"  said  Cleggett.  He  had  scarcely  recov 
ered  from  the  word  "barge" ;  it  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  "scow"  jarred  upon  him  even  more  than 
"barge"  had  done. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Lady  Agatha,  "but 
what  is  the  Jasper  B.,  Mr.  Cleggett?" 

"The  Jasper  B.  is  a  schooner,"  said  Cleggett. 
He  tried  to  say  it  casually,  but  he  was  conscious 
as  he  spoke  that  there  was  a  trace  of  hurt  surprise 
in  his  voice.  The  most  generous  and  chivalrous 
soul  alive,  Cleggett  would  have  gone  to  the  stake 
for  Lady  Agatha ;  and  yet  so  unaccountable  is  that 
vain  thing,  the  human  soul  (especially  at  breakfast 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

time),  that  he  felt  angry  at  her  for  misunderstand 
ing  the  Jasper  B. 

"You  aren't  going  to  be  horrid  about  it,  are  you?" 
she  said.  "Because,  you  know,  I  never  said  I  knew 
anything  about  ships." 

She  picked  up  the  little  dog  and  stood  it  on  the 
table,  making  the  animal  extend  its  paws  as  if 
pleading.  "Help  me  to  beg  Mr.  Cleggett' s  pardon," 
she  said,  "he's  going  to  be  cross  with  us  about  his 
old  boat/' 

If  Lady  Agatha  had  been  just  an  inch  taller  or 
just  a  few  pounds  heavier  the  playful  mood  itself 
would  have  jarred  upon  the  fastidious  Cleggett; 
indeed,  as  she  was,  if  she  had  been  just  a  thought 
more  playful,  it  would  have  jarred.  But  Lady 
Agatha,  it  has  been  remarked  before,  never  went 
too  far  in  any  direction. 

Even  as  she  smiled  and  held  out  the  dog's  paws 
Cleggett  was  aware  of  something  in  her  eyes  that 
was  certainly  not  a  tear,  but  was  just  as  certainly 
a  film  of  moisture  that  might  be  a  tear  in  another 
minute.  Then  Cleggett  cursed  himself  inwardly  for 
a  brute — it  rushed  over  him  how  difficult  to  Lady 
Agatha  her  position  on  board  the  Jasper  B.  must 
seem.  She  must  regard  herself  as  practically  a 

132 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


pensioner  on  his  bounty.  And  he  had  been  churl 
enough  to  show  a  spark  of  temper — and  that,  too, 
after  she  had  repeatedly  expressed  her  gratitude  to 
him. 

"I  am  deeply  sorry,  Lady  Agatha,"  he  began, 
blushing  painfully,  "if " 

"Silly  I"  She  interrupted  him  by  reaching  across 
the  table  and  laying  a  forgiving  hand  upon  his  arm. 
"Don't  be  so  stiff  and  formal.  Eat  your  egg  before 
it  gets  cold  and  don't  say  another  word.  Of  course 
I  know  you're  not  really  going  to  be  cross." 
And  she  attacked  her  breakfast,  giving  him  such 
a  look  that  he  forthwith  forgave  himself  and 
forgot  that  he  had  had  anything  to  forgive  in 
her. 

"There's  going  to  be  a  frightful  racket  around 
here  today,"  he  said  presently.  "Maybe  you'd  like 
to  get  away  from  it  for  a  while.  How'd  you  like 
to  go  for  a  row?" 

"I'd  love  it!"  she  said. 
"  "George  will  be  glad  to  take  you,  I'm  sure." 

"George?  And  you?"  He  thought  he  detected 
a  note  of  disappointment  in  her  voice;  he  had  not 
thought  to  disappoint  her,  but  when  he  found  her 
disappointed  he  got  a  certain  thrill  out  of  it. 

133 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"I  am  going  over  to  Morris's  this  morning/'  he 
said. 

"To  Morris's?    Alone?" 

"Why,  yes." 

"But — but  isn't  it  dangerous?" 

Cleggett  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  not  go  over  there 
alone,"  she  demanded. 

"I  am  sorry.     I  cannot." 

"But  it  is  rash — it  is  mad!" 

"There  is  no  real  danger." 

"Then  I  am  going  with  you." 

"I  think  that  would  hardly  be  advisable." 

"I'm  going  with  you,"  she  repeated,  rising  with 
determination. 

"But  you're  not,"  said  Cleggett.  "I  couldn't 
think  of  allowing  it." 

"Then  there  is  danger,"  she  said. 

He  tried  to  evade  the  point.  "I  shouldn't  have 
mentioned  it,"  he  murmured. 

She  ran  into  the  stateroom  and  was  back  in  an 
instant  with  her  hat,  which  she  pinned  on  as  she 
spoke. 

"I'm  ready  to  start,"  she  said. 

"But  you're  not  going." 
134 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


"After  what  you've  done  for  me  I  insist  upon 
my  right  to  share  whatever  danger  there  may  be." 
She  spoke  heatedly. 

In  her  heat  and  impulsiveness  and  generous  brav 
ery  Cleggett  thought  her  adorable,  although  he 
began  to  get  really  angry  with  her,  too.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  aware  that  her  gratitude  to  him 
was  such  that  she  was  on  fire  to  give  him  some 
positive  and  early  proof  of  it.  It  had  not  so  much 
as  occurred  to  her  to  enjoy  immunity  on  account 
of  her  sex;  it  had  not  entered  her  mind,  apparently, 
that  her  sex  was  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  par 
ticipating  in  whatever  dangerous  enterprise  he  had 
planned.  She  was,  in  fact,  behaving  like  a  chivalric 
but  obstinate  boy;  she  had  not  been  a  militant  suf 
fragette  for  nothing.  And  yet,  somehow,  this  atti 
tude  only  served  to  enhance  her  essential  femininity. 
Nevertheless,  Cleggett  was  inflexible. 

"You  would  scarcely  forbid  me  to  go  to  Mor 
ris's  today,  or  anywhere  else  I  may  choose,"  she 
said  hotly,  with  a  spot  of  red  on  either  cheek  bone, 
and  a  dangerous  dilatation  of  her  eyes. 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  intend  to  do,"  said  Cleg 
gett,  with  an  intensity  equal  to  her  own,  "forbid 
you." 

135 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"You  are  curiously  presumptuous,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  real  quarrel  before  they  were  done  with 
it,  will  opposed  to  naked  will.  And  oddly  enough 
Cleggett  found  his  admiration  grow  as  his  deter 
mination  to  gain  his  point  increased.  For  she 
fought  fair,  disdaining  the  facile  weapon  of  tears, 
and  when  she  yielded  she  did  it  suddenly  and  mer 
rily. 

"You've  the  temper  of  a  sultan,  Mr.  Cleggett," 
she  said  with  a  laugh,  which  was  her  signal  of 
capitulation.  And  then  she  added  maliciously: 
"You've  a  devil  of  a  temper — for  a  little  man!" 

"Little!"  Cleggett  felt  the  blood  rush  into  his 
face  again  and  was  vexed  at  himself.  "I'm  taller 
than  you  are !"  he  cried,  and  the  next  instant  could 
have  bitten  his  tongue  off  for  the  childish  vanity 
of  the  speech. 

"You're  not !"  she  cried,  her  whole  face  alive  with 
laughter.  "Measure  and  see!" 

And  pulling  off  her  hat  she  caught  up  a  table 
knife  and  made  him  stand  with  his  back  to  hers. 
"You're  cheating,"  said  Cleggett,  laughing  now 
in  spite  of  himself,  as  she  laid  the  knife  across  their 
heads.  But  his  voice  broke  and  trembled  on  the 
next  words,  for  he  was  suddenly  thrilled  with  her 

136 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


delicious  nearness.  "You're  standing  on  your  tip 
toes,  and  your  hair's  piled  on  top  of  your  head." 

"Maybe  you  are  an  inch  taller,"  she  admitted, 
with  mock  reluctance.  And  then  she  said,  with  a 
ripple  of  mirth:  "You  are  taller  than  I  am — I 
give  up ;  I  won't  go  to  Morris's." 

Cleggett,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  a  bit  relieved  at 
the  measurement.  He  was  of  the  middle  height; 
she  was  slightly  taller  than  the  average  woman ;  he 
had  really  thought  she  might  prove  taller  than  he. 
He  could  scarcely  have  told  why  he  considered  the 
point  important. 

But  after  their  quarrel  she  looked  at  Cleggett 
with  a  new  and  more  approving  gaze.  Neither  of 
them  quite  realized  it,  but  she  had  challenged  his 
ability  to  dominate  her,  and  she  had  been  worsted ; 
he  had  unconsciously  met  and  satisfied  in  her  that 
subtle  inherent  craving  for  domination  which  all 
women  possess  and  so  few  will  admit  the  posses 
sion  of. 

Cleggett  started  across  the  sands  toward  Mor 
ris's  with  an  automatic  pistol  slung  in  a  shoulder 
holster  under  his  left  arm  and  a  sword  cane  in  his 
hand.  He  paused  a  moment  by  the  scene  of  the 
explosion  of  the  night  before,  but  daylight  told 

137 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

him  nothing  that  lantern  light  had  failed  to  reveal. 
He  had  no  very  definite  plan,  although  he  thought 
it  possible  that  he  might  gain  some  information. 
The  more  he  reflected  on  the  attitude  of  Morris's, 
the  more  it  irritated  him,  and  he  yearned  to  make 
this  irritation  known. 

Perhaps  there  was  more  than  a  little  of  the  spirit 
of  bravado  in  the  call  he  proposed  to  pay.  He 
planned,  the  next  day,  to  sail  the  Jasper  B.  out  into 
the  bay  and  up  and  down  the  coast  for  a  few  miles, 
to  give  himself  and  his  men  a  bit  of  practice  in 
navigation  before  setting  out  for  the  China  Seas. 
And  he  could  not  bear  to  think  that  the  hostile 
denizens  of  Morris's  should  think  that  he  had  moved 
the  Jasper  B.  from  her  position  through  any  fear  of 
them.  He  reasoned  that  the  most  pointed  way 
of  showing  his  opinion  of  them  would  be  to  walk 
casually  into  Morris's  barroom  and  order  a  drink 
or  two.  If  Cleggett  had  a  fault  as  a  commander 
it  lay  in  these  occasional  foolhardy  impulses  which 
he  found  it  difficult  to  control.  Julius  Caesar  had 
the  same  sort  of  pride,  which,  in  Caesar's  case, 
amounted  to  positive  vanity.  In  fact,  the  char 
acter  of  Caesar  and  the  character  of  Cleggett 
had  many  points  in  common,  although  Cleggett 

138 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


possessed    a    nicer    sense    of    honor    than    Caesar. 

The  main  entrance  to  Morris's  was  on  the  west 
side.  From  the  west  verandah  one  could  enter 
directly  either  the  main  dining-room,  at  the  north 
side  of  the  building,  the  office,  or  the  barroom. 
The  barroom,  which  was  large,  ran  the  whole  length 
of  the  south  side  of  the  place.  Doors  also  led  into 
the  barroom,  from  the  south  verandah,  which  was 
built  over  the  water,  and  from  the  east  verandah, 
which  was  visible  from  the  Jasper  B. — and  onto  the 
roof  of  which  Cleggett  had  seen  Loge  tumble  the 
limp  body  of  his  victim,  Heinrich.  That  had  been 
only  the  day  before,  but  so  much  had  happened 
since  that  Cleggett  could  scarcely  realize  that  so 
little  time  had  elapsed. 

Cleggett  strolled  into  the  barroom  and  took  a 
seat  at  a  table  in  the  southeast  corner  of  it,  with 
his  back  to  the  angle  of  the  walls.  He  thus  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  bar  itself;  a  door  which  led, 
as  he  conjectured,  into  the  kitchen;  the  door  com 
municating  with  the  office,  and  a  door  which  gave 
upon  the  west  verandah — all  this  easily,  and  with 
out  turning  his  head.  By  turning  his  head  ever  so 
slightly  to  his  right,  he  could  command  a  view  of 
the  door  leading  to  the  east  verandah.  Unless  the 

139 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ceiling  suddenly  opened  above  him,  or  the  floor  be 
neath^  it  would  be  impossible  to  surprise  him.  Cleg- 
gett  took  this  position  less  through  any  positive  fear 
of  attack  than  because  he  possessed  the  instinct  of 
the  born  strategist.  Cleggett  was  like  Robert  E. 
Lee  in  his  quick  grasp  of  a  situation  and,  indeed, 
in  other  respects — although  Cleggett  would  never 
under  any  circumstances  have  countenanced  human 
slavery. 

There  were  only  two  men  in  the  place  when  Cleg 
gett  took  his  seat,  the  bartender  and  a  fellow  who 
was  evidently  a  waiter.  He  had  entered  the  west 
door  and  walked  across  the  room  without  looking 
at  them,  withholding  his  gaze  purposely.  When  he 
looked  towards  the  bar,  after  seating  himself,  the 
waiter,  with  his  back  towards  Cleggett's  corner,  was 
talking  in  a  low  tone  to  the  bartender.  But  they 
had  both  seen  him;  Cleggett  perceived  they  both 
knew  him. 

"See  what  the  gentleman  wants,  Pierre,"  said 
the  bartender  in  a  voice  too  elaborately  casual  to 
hide  his  surprise  at  seeing  Cleggett. 

The  waiter  turned  and  came  towards  him,  and 
Cleggett  saw  the  man's  face  for  the  first  time.  It 
was  a  face  that  Cleggett  never  forgot.  Cleggett 

140 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


judged  the  man  to  be  a  Frenchman;  he  was  dark 
and  sallow,  with  nervous,  black  eyebrows,  and  a 
smirk  that  came  and  went  quickly.  But  the  un 
forgettable  feature  was  a  mole  that  grew  on  his 
upper  lip,  on  the  right  side,  near  the  base  of  his 
flaring  nostril.  Many  moles  have  hairs  in  them; 
Pierre's  mole  had  not  merely  half  a  dozen  hairs,  but 
a  whole  crop.  They  grew  thick  and  long;  and, 
with  a  perversion  of  vanity  almost  inconceivable  in 
a  sane  person,  Pierre  had  twisted  these  hairs  to 
gether,  as  a  man  twists  a  mustache,  and  had  trained 
them  to  grow  obliquely  across  his  cheek  bone.  He 
was  a  big  fellow,  for  a  Frenchman,  and,  as  he 
walked  towards  Cleggett  with  a  mincing  elasticity 
of  gait,  he  smirked  and  caressed  this  whimsical 
adornment.  Cleggett,  fascinated,  stared  at  it  as 
the  fellow  paused  before  him.  Pierre,  evidently 
gratified  at  the  sensation  he  was  creating,  continued 
to  smirk  and  twist,  and  then,  seeing  that  he  held 
his  audience,  he  took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a 
little  piece  of  cosmetic  and,  as  a  final  touch  of  Gallic 
grotesquerie,  waxed  the  thing.  It  was  all  done 
with  that  air  of  quiet  histrionicism,  and  with  that 
sense  of  self-appreciation,  which  only  the  French 
can  achieve  in  its  perfection. 

141 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"You  ordered,  M'sieur?"  Pierre,  having  pro 
duced  his  effect,  like  the  artist  (though  debased) 
that  he  was,  did  not  linger  over  it. 

"Er — a  Scotch  highball,"  said  Cleggett,  recover 
ing  himself.  "And  with  a  piece  of  lemon  peeling 
in  it,  please." 

Pierre  served  him  deftly.  Cleggett  stirred  his 
drink  and  sipped  it  slowly,  gazing  at  the  bartender, 
/  who  elaborately  avoided  watching  him.  But  after 
a  moment  a  little  noise  at  his  right  attracted  his 
attention.  Pierre,  with  his  hand  cupped,  had  dashed 
it  along  a  window  pane  and  caught  a  big  stupid 
fly,  abroad  thus  early  in  the  year.  With  a  sense 
of  almost  intolerable  disgust,  Cleggett  saw  the  man, 
with  a  rapt  smile  on  his  face,  tear  the  insect's  legs 
from  it,  and  turn  it  loose.  If  ever  a  creature  re 
joiced  in  wickedness  for  its  own  sake,  and  as  if  its 
practice  were  an  art  in  itself,  Pierre  was  that  per 
son,  Cleggett  concluded.  Knowing  Pierre,  one 
could  almost  understand  those  cafes  of  Paris  where 
the  silly  poets  of  degradation  ostentatiously  affect 
the  worship  of  all  manner  of  devils. 

An  instant  later,  Pierre,  as  if  he  had  been  doing- 
something  quite  charming,  looked  at  Cleggett  with 
a  grin ;  a  grin  that  assumed  that  there  was  some  kind 

142 


In  the  Enemy's  Camp 


of  an  understanding  between  them  concerning  this 
delightful  pastime.  It  was  too  much.  Cleggett, 
with  an  oath — and  never  stopping  to  reflect  that 
it  was  perhaps  just  the  sort  of  action  which  Pierre 
hoped  to  provoke — grasped  his  cane  with  the  inten 
tion  of  laying  it  across  the  fellow's  shoulders  half 
a  dozen  times,  come  what  might,  and  leaving  the 
place. 

But  at  that  instant  the  door  from  the  office 
opened  and  the  man  whom  he  knew  only  as  Loge 
entered  the  room. 

Loge  paused  at  the  right  of  Cleggett,  and  then 
marched  directly  across  the  room  and  sat  down 
opposite  the  commander  of  the  Jasper  B.  at  the 
same  table.  He  was  wearing  a  cutaway  frock 
coat,  and  as  he  swung  his  big  frame  into  the 
seat  one  of  his  coat  tails  caught  in  the  chair  back 
and  was  lifted. 

Cleggett  saw  the  steel  butt  of  an  army  revolver. 
Loge  perceived  by  his  face  that  he  had  seen  it, 
and  laughed. 

"I've  been  wanting  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said, 
leaning  across  the  table  and  showing  his  yellow 
teeth  in  a  smile  which  he  perhaps  intended  to  be 
ingratiating. 

143 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett,  looking  Loge  fixedly  in  the  eye,  with 
drew  his  right  hand  from  beneath  his  coat,  and 
laid  his  magazine  pistol  on  the  table  under  his  hand. 

"I  am  at  your  service,"  he  said,  steadily,  giving 
back  unwavering  gaze  for  gaze.  "I  am  looking  for 
some  information  myself,  and  I  am  in  exactly  the 
humor  for  a  little  comfortable  chat." 


CHAPTER    XI 
REPARTEE  AND  PISTOLS 

LOGE  dropped  his  gaze   to  the  pistol,   and 
the  smile  upon  his  lips  slowly  turned  into 
a  sneer.     But  when  he  lifted  his  eyes  to 
Cleggett's  again  there  was  no  fear  in  them. 

"Put  up  your  gun,"  he  said,  easily  enough.  "You 
won't  have  any  use  for  it  here." 

"Thank  you  for  the  assurance,"  said  Cleggett, 
"but  it  occurs  to  me  that  it  is  in  a  very  good  place 
where  it  is." 

"Oh,  if  it  amuses  you  to  play  with  it "  said 

Loge. 

"It  does,"  said  Cleggett  dryly. 

"It's  an  odd  taste,"  said  Loge. 

"It's  a  taste  I've  formed  during  the  last  few  days 
on  board  my  ship,"  said  Cleggett  meaningly. 

"Ship?"  said  Loge.  "Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon. 
You  mean  the  old  hulk  over  yonder  in  the  canal?" 

"Over  yonder  in  the  canal,"  said  Cleggett,  with 
out  relaxing  his  vigilance. 

145 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"You've  been  frightened  over  there?"  asked 
Loge,  showing  his  teeth  in  a  grin. 

"No,"  said  Cleggett.    "I'm  not  easily  frightened." 

Loge  looked  at  the  pistol  under  Cleggett's  hand, 
and  from  the  pistol  to  Cleggett's  face,  with  ironical 
gravity,  before  he  spoke.  "I  should  have  thought, 
from  the  way  you  cling  to  that  pistol,  that  perhaps 
your  nerves  might  be  a  little  weak  and  shaky." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Cleggett,  playing  the 
game  with  a  face  like  a  mask,  "my  nerves  are  so 
steady  that  I  could  snip  that  ugly-looking  skull  off 
your  cravat  the  length  of  this  barroom  away." 

"That  would  be  mighty  good  shooting,"  said 
Loge,  turning  in  his  chair  and  measuring  the  dis 
tance  with  his  eye.  "I  don't  believe  you  could  do 
it.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  /  couldn't." 

"While  we  are  on  the  subject  of  your  scarfpin," 
said  Cleggett,  in  whom  the  slur  on  the  Jasper  B.  had 
been  rankling,  "I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  think 
that  skull  thing  is  in  damned  bad  taste.  In  fact, 
you  are  dressed  generally  in  damned  bad  taste. — 
Who  is  your  tailor?" 

Cleggett  was  gratified  to  see  a  dull  flush  spread 
over  the  other's  face  at  the  insult.  Loge  was  silent 
a  moment,  and  then  he  said,  dropping  his  bantering 

146 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


manner,  which  indeed  sat  rather  heavily  upon  him : 
"I  don't  know  why  you  should  want  to  shoot  at 
my  scarfpin — or  at  me.  I  don't  know  why  you 
should  suddenly  lay  a  pistol  between  us.  I  don't, 
in  short,  know  why  we  should  sit  here  paying  each 
other  left-handed  compliments,  when  it  was  merely 
my  intention  to  make  you  a  business  proposition." 

"I  have  been  waiting  to  hear  what  you  had  to 
say  to  me,"  said  Cleggett,  without  being  in  the  least 
thrown  off  his  guard  by  the  other's  change  of 
manner. 

"If  you  had  not  chanced  to  drop  in  here  today," 
said  Loge,  "I  had  intended  paying  you  a  visit." 

"I  have  had  several  visitors  lately,"  said  Cleg 
gett  nonchalantly,  "and  I  think  at  least  two  of  them 
can  make  no  claim  that  they  were  not  warmly  re 
ceived." 

"Yes?"  said  Loge.  But  if  Cleggett's  meaning 
reached  him  he  was  too  cool  a  hand  to  show  it.  He 
persisted  in  his  affectation  of  a  businesslike  air. 
"Am  I  right  in  thinking  that  you  have  bought  the 
boat?" 

"You  are." 

"To  come  to  the  point,"  said  Loge,  "I  want  to 
buy  her  from  you.  What  will  you  take  for  her?" 

147 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

The  proposition  was  unexpected  to  Cleggett,  but 
he  did  not  betray  his  surprise. 

"You  want  to  buy  her?"  he  said.  "You  want  to 
buy  the  old  hulk  over  yonder  in  the  canal?"  He 
laughed,  but  continued:  "What  on  earth  can  your 
interest  be  in  her?" 

There  was  a  trace  of  surliness  in  Loge's  voice  as 
he  answered :  "You  were  enough  interested  in  her 
to  buy  her,  it  seems.  Why  shouldn't  I  have  the 
same  interest  ?" 

Cleggett  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  he  leaned 
across  the  table  and  said  with  emphasis:  "I  have 
noticed  your  interest  in  the  Jasper  B.  since  the  day 
I  first  set  foot  on  her.  And  let  me  warn  you  that 
unless  you  show  your  curiosity  in  some  other  man 
ner  henceforth,  you  will  seriously  regret  it.  A 
couple  of  your  men  have  repented  of  your  interest 
already." 

"My  men?  What  do  you  mean  by  my  men?  I 
haven't  any  men."  Loge's  imitation  of  astonish 
ment  was  a  piece  of  art;  but  if  anything  he  overdid 
it  a  trifle.  He  frowned  in  a  puzzled  fashion,  and 
then  said:  "You  talk  about  my  men;  you  speak 
riddles  to  me ;  you  appear  to  threaten  me,  but  after 
all  I  have  only  made  you  a  plain  business  proposi- 

148 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


tion.    I  ask  you  again,  what  will  you  take  for  her?" 

"She's  not  for  sale,"  said  Cleggett  shortly. 

Loge  did  not  speak  again  for  a  moment.  In 
stead,  he  picked  up  the  spoon  with  which  Cleggett 
had  stirred  his  highball  and  began  to  draw  charac 
ters  with  its  wet  point  upon  the  table.  "If  it's  a 
question  of  price,"  he  said  finally,  "I'm  prepared  to 
allow  you  a  handsome  profit." 

Cleggett  determined  to  find  out  how  far  he 
would  go. 

"You  might  be  willing  to  pay  as  much  as  $5,000 
for  her — for  the  old  hulk  over  there  in  the  canal?" 

Loge  stopped  playing  with  the  spoon  and  looked 
searchingly  into  Cleggettfs  face.  Then  he  said : 

"I  will.  Turn  her  over  to  me  the  way  she  was 
the  day  you  bought  her,  and  I'll  give  you  $5,000." 
He  paused,  and  then  repeated,  stressing  the  words : 
"Mind  you,  with  everything  in  her  the  way  it  was 
the  day  you  bought  her." 

Cleggett  fumbled  with  his  fingers  in  a  waistcoat 
pocket,  drew  out  the  torn  piece  of  counterfeit 
money  which  he  had  taken  from  the  dead  hand, 
and  flung  it  on  the  table. 

"Five  thousand  dollars,"  he  said,  "in  that  kind 
of  money?" 

149 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Loge  looked  at  it  with  eyes  that  suddenly  con 
tracted.  Clever  dissembler  that  he  was,  he  could 
not  prevent  an  involuntary  start.  He  licked  his  lips, 
and  Cleggett  judged  that  perhaps  his  mouth  felt  a 
little  dry.  But  these  were  the  only  signs  he  made. 
Indeed,  when  he  spoke  it  was  with  something  almost 
like  an  air  of  relief. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "now  we're  down  to  brass  tacks 
at  last  on  this  proposition.  Mr.  Detective,  name 
your  real  price." 

Cleggett  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  ap 
peared  to  consider  his  real  price.  But  in  reality  he 
was  thinking  that  there  was  no  longer  any  doubt 
of  the  origin  of  the  explosion.  Since  Loge  prac 
tically  acknowledged  the  counterfeit  money,  the 
man  who  had  died  with  this  piece  of  it  in  his  hand 
must  have  been  one  of  Loge's  men.  But  he  only 
said: 

"Why  do  you  call  me  a  detective?" 

Loge  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Then  he  said 
again:  "Your  real  price?" 

"What,"  said  Cleggett,  trying  him  out,  "do  you 
think  of  $20,000?" 

The  other  gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"Gad !"  he  cried,  "what  crooks  you  bulls  are." 
150 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


"It's  not  so  much,"  said  Cleggett  deliberately, 
"when  one  takes  everything  into  consideration." 

Loge  appeared  to  meditate.  Then  he  said  :  "That 
figure  is  out  of  the  question.  I'll  give  you  $10,000 
and  not  a  cent  more." 

"You  want  her  pretty  badly,"  said  Cleggett.  "Or 
you  want  what's  on  her." 

"Why,"  said  Loge,  with  an  assumption  of  great 
frankness,  "between  you  and  me  I  don't  care  a 
damn  about  your  boat.  I  think  we  understand  each 
other.  I'm  buying  her  to  get  what's  on  her." 

"Suppose  I  sell  you  what's  on  her  for  $10,000  and 
keep  the  ship,"  said  Cleggett,  wondering  what  was 
on  the  Jasper  B. 

"Agreed,"  said  Loge. 

"Since  we're  being  so  frank  with  one  another," 
said  Cleggett,  "would  you  mind  telling  me  why 
you  didn't  come  to  me  at  the  start  with  an  offer  to 
buy,  instead  of  making  such  a  nuisance  of  your 
self?" 

"Eh?"  Loge  appeared  genuinely  surprised. 
"Why  should  I  pay  you  any  money  if  I  could  get 
it,  or  destroy  it,  without  that?  Besides,  how  was 
I  to  know  you  could  be  bought  ?" 

Cleggett  wondered  more  than  ever  what  piece  of 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

evidence  the  hold  of  the  Jasper  B.  contained.  He 
felt  certain  that  it  was  not  merely  counterfeit  bills. 
Cleggett  determined  upon  a  minute  and  thorough 
search  of  the  hold. 

"You'll  send  for  it?"  said  Cleggett,  still  trying 
to  get  a  more  definite  idea  of  what  "it"  was,  with 
out  revealing  that  he  did  not  know. 

"I'll  come  myself  with  a  taxicab,"  said  Loge. 

Cleggett  rose,  smiling ;  he  had  found  out  as  much 
as  he  could  expect  to  learn. 

"On  the  whole,"  he  said,  "I  think  that  I  prefer 
to  keep  the  Jasper  B.  and  everything  that's  in  her. 
But  before  I  leave  I  must  thank  you  for  the  pleas 
ure  I  have  derived  from  our  little  talk — and  the 
information  as  well.  You  can  hardly  imagine  how 
you  have  interested  me.  Will  you  kindly  step  back 
and  let  me  pass?" 

Loge  got  to  his  feet  with  a  muttered  oath;  his 
face  went  livid  and  a  muscle  worked  in  his  throat ; 
his  fingers  contracted  like  the  claws  of  some  big 
and  powerful  cat.  But,  out  of  respect  for  Cleg- 
gett's  pistol,  he  stepped  backward. 

"You  have  confessed  to  making  counterfeit 
money,"  went  on  Cleggett,  enjoying  the  situation, 
"and  you  have  as  good  as  told  me  that  there  are 

152 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


further  evidences  of  crime  on  board  the  Jasper  B. 
You  can  rest  assured  that  I  will  find  them.  You 
have  also  betrayed  the  fact  that  you  planned  to 
blow  my  ship  up,  and  there  are  several  other  little 
matters  which  you  have  shed  light  upon. 

"I  am  not  a  detective.  Nevertheless,  I  hope  in 
the  near  future  to  see  you  behind  the  bars  and  to 
help  put  you  there.  It  may  interest  you  to  know 
that  my  opinion  of  your  intellect  is  no  higher  than 
my  opinion  of  your  character.  You  seem  to  me 
to  have  a  vast  conceit  of  your  own  cleverness, 
which  is  not  justified  by  the  facts.  You  are  a 
very  stupid  fellow ;  a — a — what  is  the  slang  word  ? 
Boob,  I  believe." 

But  while  Cleggett  was  finishing  his  remarks  a 
subtle  change  stole  over  Loge's  countenance.  His 
attitude,  which  had  been  one  of  baffled  rage,  relaxed. 
As  Cleggett  paused  the  sneer  came  back  upon  Loge's 
lips. 

"Boob/'  he  said  quietly,  "boob  is  the  word.  Look 
above  you." 

A  sharp  metallic  click  overhead  gave  point  to 
Loge's  words.  Looking  up,  Cleggett  saw  that  a 
trapdoor  had  opened  in  the  ceiling,  and  through  the 
aperture  Pierre,  who  had  left  the  room  some  mo- 

153 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ments  before  with  the  bartender,  was  pointing  a 
revolver,  which  he  had  just  cocked,  at  Cleggett's 
head.  He  sighted  along  the  barrel  with  an  eager, 
anticipatory  smile  upon  his  face;  Pierre  would,  no 
doubt,  have  preferred  to  see  a  man  boiled  in  oil 
rather  than  merely  shot,  but  shooting  was  some 
thing,  and  Pierre  evidently  intended  to  get  all  the 
delight  possible  out  of  the  situation. 

Cleggett's  own  pistol  was  within  an  inch  of 
Loge's  stomach. 

"I  was  willing  to  pay  you  real  money,"  said 
Loge,  "for  the  sake  of  peace.  But  you're  a  damned 
fool  if  you  think  you  can  throw  me  down  and  then 
walk  straight  out  of  here  to  headquarters."  Then 
he  added,  showing  his  yellow  teeth :  "You  would 
bring  pistols  into  the  conversation,  you  know.  That 
was  your  idea.  And  now  you're  in  a  devil  of 
a  fix." 

The  man  certainly  had  an  iron  nerve;  he  spoke 
as  calmly  as  if  Cleggett's  weapon  were  not  in  exist 
ence  ;  there  was  nothing  but  the  pressure  of  a  finger 
wanting  to  send  both  him  and  Cleggett  to  eternity. 
Yet  he  jested;  he  laid  his  strong  and  devilish  will 
across  Cleggett's  mentality;  it  was  a  duel  in  which 
the  two  minds  met  and  tried  each  other  like  swords ; 

154 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


the  first  break  in  intention,  and  one  or  the  other  was 
a  dead  man.  Cleggett  felt  the  weight  of  that  pow 
erful  and  evil  soul  upon  his  own  almost  as  if  it  were 
a  physical  thing. 

''You  are  not  altogether  safe  yourself,"  said  Cleg 
gett  grimly,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Pierre's  and  his 
pistol  touching  Loge's  waistband.  "If  Pierre  so 
much  as  winks  an  eye — if  you  move  a  hair's  breadth 
— I'll  put  a  stream  of  bullets  through  you.  Under 
stand?" 

How  long  this  singular  psychological  combat 
might  have  lasted  before  a  nerve  quivered  some 
where  and  brought  the  denouement  of  a  double 
death,  there  is  no  telling.  For  accident  (or  fate) 
intervened  to  pluck  these  antagonists  back  into  life 
and  rob  the  gloating  Pierre  of  the  happiness  of 
seeing  two  men  perish  without  danger  to  himself. 
Something  of  uncertain  shape,  but  of  a  blue  color, 
loomed  vaguely  behind  Pierre's  head ;  loomed  and 
suddenly  descended  to  the  accompaniment  of  a 
piercing  shriek.  Pierre's  pistol  went  off,  but  he  had 
evidently  been  stricken  between  the  shoulders;  the 
ball  went  wild,  and  the  pistol  itself  dropped 
from  his  hand,  another  cartridge  exploding  as  it 
hit  the  floor.  The  next  instant  Pierre  tumbled 

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The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

headlong  through  the  hole,  landing  upon  Loge, 
who,  not  braced  for  the  shock,  went  down 
himself. 

As  the  two  men  struggled  to  rise  a  strange  figure 
precipitated  itself  from  the  room  above,  feet  first, 
and  hit  both  of  them,  knocking  them  down  again. 
It  was  a  tall  man,  thin  and  lank,  clad  only  in  a  suit 
of  silk  pajamas  of  the  color  known  as  baby  blue; 
he  was  barefoot,  and  Cleggett,  with  that  lucid  grasp 
of  detail  which  comes  to  men  oftener  in  nightmares 
than  in  real  life,  noticed  that  he  had  a  bunion  at 
the  large  joint  of  his  right  great  toe. 

If  the  man  was  startling,  he  was  no  less  startled 
himself.  Leaping  from  the  struggling  forms  of 
Pierre  and  Loge,  who  defeated  each  other's  frantic 
efforts  to  rise,  he  was  across  the  barroom  in  three 
wild  bounds,  shrieking  shrilly  as  he  leaped;  he 
bolted  through  the  west  door  and  cleared  the 
verandah  at  a  jump. 

Loge,  gaining  his  feet,  was  after  the  man  in 
blue  in  an  instant,  evidently  thinking  no  more  of 
Cleggett  than  if  the  latter  had  been  in  Madagascar. 
And  as  for  Cleggett,  although  he  might  have  shot 
down  Loge  a  dozen  times  over,  he  was  so  astonished 
at  what  he  saw  that  the  thought  never  entered  his 

156 


Repartee  and  Pistols 


head.  He  had,  in  fact,  forgotten  that  he  held  a 
pistol  in  his  hand.  Pierre  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
followed  Loge. 

Cleggett,  running  after  them,  saw  the  man  in  the 
blue  pajamas  sprinting  along  the  sandy  margin  of 
the  bay.  But  Loge,  his  hat  gone,  his  coat  tails  level 
in  the  wind  behind  him,  and  his  large  patent  leather 
shoes  flashing  in  the  morning  sunlight,  was  over 
hauling  him  with  long  and  powerful  strides.  Cleg 
gett  saw  the  quarry  throw  a  startled  glance  over 
his  shoulder ;  he  was  no  match  for  the  terrible  Loge 
in  speed,  and  he  must  have  realized  it  with  despair, 
for  he  turned  sharply  at  right  angles  and  rushed 
into  the  sea.  Loge  unhesitatingly  plunged  after 
him,  and  had  caught  him  by  the  shoulder  and 
whirled  him  about  before  he  had  reached  a  swim 
ming  depth.  They  clinched,  in  water  mid-thigh 
deep,  and  then  Cleggett  saw  Loge  plant  his  fist, 
with  scientific  precision  and  awful  force,  upon  the 
point  of  the  other's  jaw.  The  man  in  the  blue 
pajamas  collapsed;  he  would  have  dropped  into 
the  water,  but  Loge  caught  him  as  he  fell, 
threw  his  body  across  a  shoulder  with  little  ap 
parent  effort,  and  trotted  back  into  the  house  with 
him. 

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The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett  had  left  his  sword  cane  in  the  barroom, 
but  he  judged  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  allow  it 
to  remain  there  for  the  present.  He  turned  and 
walked  meditatively  across  the  sands  towards  the 
Jasper  B. 


CHAPTER    XII 
THE  SECOND  OBLONG  BOX 

WHEN  Cleggett  returned  to  the  ship  he 
found  Captain  Abernethy  in  conversa 
tion  with  a  young  man  of  deprecating 
manner  whom  the  Captain  introduced  as  the  Rev. 
Simeon  Calthrop. 

"I  been  tellin'  him,"  said  the  Cap'n,  pitching  his 
voice  shrilly  above  the  din  the  workmen  made,  and 
not  giving  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  an  opportunity  to 
speak  for  himself,  "I  been  tellin'  him  it  may  be  a 
long  time  before  the  Jasper  B.  gets  to  the  Holy 
Land." 

"Do  you  want  to  go  to  Palestine?"  asked  Cleg 
gett  of  Mr.  Calthrop,  who  stood  with  downcast  eyes 
and  fingers  that  worked  nervously  at  the  lapels  of 
his  rusty  black  coat. 

"I've  knowed  him  sence  he  was  a  boy.  He's  in 
disgrace,  Simeon  Calthrop  is,"  shrieked  the  Cap 
tain,  preventing  the  preacher  from  answering  Cleg 
gett' s  question,  and  scorning  to  answer  it  directly 

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The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

himself.  "Been  kicked  out  of  his  church  fur  kissin' 
a  married  woman,  and  can't  get  another  one."  (The 
Cap'n  meant  another  church.) 

The  preacher  merely  raised  his  eyes,  which  were 
large  and  brown  and  slightly  protuberant,  and  mur 
mured  with  a  kind  of  brave  humility: 

"It  is  true." 

"But  why  do  you  want  to  go  to  Palestine?"  said 
Cleggett. 

"She  sung  in  the  choir  and  she  had  three  chil 
dren,"  screamed  Cap'n  Abernethy,  "and  she  limped 
some.  Folks  say  she  had  a  cork  foot.  Hey,  Simeon, 
did  she  have  a  cork  foot?" 

Mr.  Calthrop  flushed  painfully,  but  he  forced 
himself  courageously  to  answer.  "Mr.  Abernethy, 
I  do  not  know,"  he  said  humbly,  and  with  the  look 
of  a  stricken  animal  in  his  big  brown  eyes. 

He  was  a  handsome  young  fellow  of  about  thirty 
— or  he  would  have  been  handsome,  Cleggett 
thought,  had  he  not  been  so  emaciated.  His  hair  was 
dark  and  brown  and  inclined  to  curl,  his  forehead 
was  high  and  white  and  broad,  and  his  ringers  were 
long  and  white  and  slender ;  his  nose  was  well  mod 
eled,  but  his  lips  were  a  trifle  too  full.  Although  he 
belonged  to  one  of  the  evangelical  denominations, 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  affected  clothing  very  like 
the  regulation  costume  of  the  Episcopalian  clergy; 
but  this  clothing  was  now  worn  and  torn  and  dusty. 
Buttons  were  gone  here  and  there;  the  knees  of 
the  unpressed  trousers  were  baggy  and  beginning  to 
be  ragged,  and  the  sole  of  one  shoe  flapped  as  he 
walked.  He  had  a  three  days'  growth  of  beard 
and  no  baggage. 

When  Cap'n  Abernethy  had  delivered  himself  and 
walked  away,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  confirmed  the 
story  of  his  own  disgrace,  speaking  in  a  low  but 
clear  voice,  and  with  a  gentle  and  wistful  smile. 

"I  am  one  of  the  most  miserable  of  sinners,  Mr. 
Cleggett,"  he  said.  "I  have  proved  myself  to  be 
that  most  despicable  thing,  an  unworthy  minister. 
I  was  tempted  and  I  fell." 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  seemed  to  find  the  sort 
of  satisfaction  in  confessing  his  sins  to  the  world 
that  the  medieval  flagellants  found  in  scoring  them 
selves  with  whips ;  they  struck  their  bodies ;  he  drew 
forth  his  soul  and  beat  it  publicly. 

Cleggett  learned  that  he  had  set  himself  as  a 
punishment  and  a  mortification  the  task  of  obtaining 
his  daily  bread  by  the  work  of  his  hands.  It  was 
his  intention  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem, 

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The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

refusing  all  assistance  except  that  which  he  earned 
by  manual  labor.  After  such  a  term  of  years  as 
should  satisfy  all  men  (and  particularly  his  own 
spiritual  sense)  of  the  genuineness  of  his  penitence, 
he  would  apply  to  his  church  for  reinstatement, 
and  ask  for  an  appointment  to  some  difficult  mis 
sion  in  a  wild  and  savage  country.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Calthrop  intimated  that  if  he  chose  to  accept  re 
habilitation  on  less  arduous  terms,  he  might  obtain 
it;  but  the  poignancy  of  his  own  sense  of  failure 
drove  him  to  extremes. 

"Are  you  sure,"  said  Cleggett  sternly,  "that  you 
are  not  making  a  luxury  of  this  very  penitence  it 
self?  Are  you  sure  that  it  would  not  be  more 
acceptable  to  Heaven  if  you  forgave  yourself  more 
easily?" 

"Alas,  yes,  I  am  sure!"  said  Mr.  Calthrop,  with 
a  sigh  and  his  calm  and  wistful  smile.  "I  know 
myself  too  well !  I  know  my  own  soul.  I  am  cursed 
with  a  fatal  magnetism  which  women  find  it  im 
possible  to  resist.  And  I  am  continually  tempted  to 
permit  it  to  exert  itself.  This  is  the  cross  that  I 
bear  through  life." 

"You  should  marry  some  good  woman,"  said 
Cleggett. 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


"I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  worthy,"  said  Mr.  Cal- 
throp  meekly.  "And  think  of  the  pain  my  wife 
would  experience  in  seeing  me  continually  tempted 
by  some  woman  who  believed  herself  to  be  my 
psychic  affinity !" 

"You  are  a  thought  too  subtle,  Mr.  Calthrop," 
said  Cleggett  bluntly.  "But  I  suppose  you  cannot 
help  that.  To  each  of  us  his  destiny.  I  am  pre 
pared,  until  I  see  some  evidence  to  the  contrary, 
to  believe  your  repentance  to  be  genuine.  In  the 
meantime,  we  need  a  ship's  chaplain.  If  your  con 
science  permits,  you  may  have  the  post — combining 
it,  however,  with  the  vocation  of  a  common  sailor 
before  the  mast.  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  you 
that  manual  labor  will  do  you  good.  Some  time  or 
another,  in  her  progress  around  the  world,  the 
Jasper  B.  will  undoubtedly  touch  at  a  coast  within 
walking  distance  of  Jerusalem.  There  we  will  put 
you  ashore.  Before  we  sail  you  can  put  in  your 
time  holystoning  the  deck. 

"The  deck  of  the  Jasper  B.;'  said  Cleggett,  look 
ing  at  it,  "to  all  appearances,  has  not  been  holy 
stoned  for  some  years.  You  will  find  in  the 
forecastle  several  holystones  that  have  never  been 
used,  and  may  begin  at  once." 

163 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett,  if  his  tastes  had  not  inclined  him  to 
wards  a  more  active  and  adventurous  life,  would 
have  made  a  good  bishop,  for  he  knew  how  to  com 
bine  justice  and  mercy.  And  yet  few  bishops  have 
possessed  his  rapidity  of  decision,  when  compelled, 
upon  the  spur  of  the  moment,  to  become  the  phy 
sician  of  an  ailing  soul.  He  had  determined  in  a 
flash  to  make  the  man  ship's  chaplain,  that  Calthrop 
might  come  into  close  contact  with  other  spiritual 
organisms  and  not  think  too  exclusively  of  his  own. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  thanked  him  with  becom 
ing  gratitude  and  departed  to  get  the  new  holy 
stones. 

By  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  with  such  celerity 
had  the  work  gone  forward,  Mr.  Watkins,  the  con 
tractor,  announced  to  Cleggett  that  his  task  was 
finished,  except  for  the  removal  of  the  rubbish  in 
the  hold.  Cleggett,  going  carefully  over  the  vessel, 
and  examining  the  new  parts  with  a  brochure  on 
the  construction  and  navigation  of  schooners  in  his 
hand,  verified  the  statement. 

"She  is  ready  to  sail,"  said  Cleggett,  standing  by 
the  new  wheel  with  a  swelling  heart,  and  sweeping 
the  vessel  from  bowsprit  to  rudder  with  a  gradual 
glance. 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


It  was  a  look  almost  paternal  in  its  pride ;  Cleg- 
gett  loved  the  Jasper  B.  She  was  an  idea  that  no 
one  else  but  Cleggett  could  have  had. 

"Sail?"  said  Mr.  Watkins. 

"Why  not?"  said  Cleggett,  puzzled  at  his  tone. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Watkins.  "It's  none 
of  my  business.  My  business  was  to  do  the  work 
I  was  hired  to  do  according  to  specifications.  Fur 
ther  than  that,  nothing." 

"But  why  did  you  think  I  was  having  the  work 
done?" 

"Can't  say  I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Watkins.  "I 
took  the  job,  and  I  done  it.  Had  an  idea  mebby 
you  were  in  the  movin'  picture  game." 

Mr.  Watkins,  as  he  talked,  had  been  regarding 
Cap'n  Abernethy,  who  in  turn  was  looking  at  the 
mainmast.  There  seemed  to  be  something  in  the 
very  way  Cap'n  Abernethy  looked  at  the  mainmast 
which  jarred  on  Mr.  Watkins.  Mr.  Watkins 
dropped  his  voice,  indicating  the  Cap'n  with  a 
curved,  disparaging  thumb,  as  he  asked  Cleggett: 

"Is  he  going  to  sail  her?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Oh — nothing;  nothing  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Watkins. 
"It's  none  o'  my  business." 

165 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett  began  to  be  a  little  annoyed.  "Have 
you,"  he  said  with  dignity,  and  fixing  a  rather 
stern  glance  upon  Mr.  Watkins,  "have  you  any  rea 
son  to  doubt  Cap'n  Abernethy's  ability  as  a  sailing 
master?" 

"No,  indeed/'  said  Mr.  Watkins  cheerfully,  "not 
as  a  sailing  master.  He  may  be  the  best  in  the 
world,  for  all  I  know.  /  never  seen  him  sail  any 
thing.  I  never  heard  him  play  the  violin,  neither, 
for  that  matter,  and  he  may  be  a  regular  jim-dandy 
on  the  violin  for  all  I  know." 

"You  are  facetious,"  said  Cleggett  stiffly. 

"Meaning  I  ain't  paid  to  be  fresh,  eh?"  said  Mr. 
Watkins.  "And  right  you  are,  too.  And  there's 
all  that  junk  down  in  the  hold  to  pass  out  and  cart 
away." 

Cleggett  personally  supervised  this  removal, 
standing  on  the  deck  by  the  hatchway  and  scan 
ning  everything  that  was  handed  up.  The  character 
of  this  junk  has  already  been  described.  Every 
barrel  or  cask  that  was  placed  upon  the  deck  was 
stove  in  with  an  ax  before  Cleggett's  eyes;  he 
satisfied  himself  that  every  bottle  was  empty;  he 
turned  over  the  broken  boxes  and  beer  cases  with 
his  foot  to  see  that  they  contained  nothing. 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


But  the  work  was  three-quarters  done  before  he 
found  what  he  was  looking  for.  From  under  a 
heap  of  debris,  which  had  completely  hidden  it, 
towards  the  forward  part  of  the  vessel,  the  work 
men  unearthed  an  unpainted  oblong  box,  almost 
seven  feet  in  length.  It  was  of  substantial  ma 
terial  and  looked  newer  than  any  of  the  other  stuff. 
Cleggett  had  it  placed  on  one  side  of  the  hatchway 
and  sat  down  on  it.  It  was  tightly  nailed  up ;  all  of 
its  surfaces  were  sound.  Cleggett  did  not  doubt 
that  he  would  find  in  it  what  he  wanted,  ye 
in  order  to  be  on  the  safe  side  he  continued  to 
scrutinize  everything  else  that  came  out  of  the 
hold. 

But  finally  the  hold  was  as  empty  as  a  drum,  and 
Watkins  and  his  men  departed.  The  oblong  box 
upon  which  Cleggett  sat  was  the  only  possible  re 
ceptacle  of  any  sort  in  an  undamaged  condition, 
which  had  been  in  the  hold.  He  determined  to  have 
it  opened  in  the  cabin. 

As  he  arose  from  it  he  was  struck  by  its  resem 
blance  to  the  box  in  Elmer's  charge,  the  dank  box 
of  Reginald  Maltravers,  which  stood  on  one  end 
near  the  cabin  companionway,  leaning  against  the 
port  side  of  the  cabin  so  that  it  was  not  visible  from 

167 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  road,  which  ran  to  the  starboard  of  the  Jasper  B. 
But,  since  all  oblong  boxes  are  bound  to  have  a 
general  resemblance,  Cleggett,  at  the  time,  thought 
little  enough  of  this  likeness. 

He  called  to  George  and  Mr.  Calthrop,  who,  with 
Dr.  Farnsworth,  were  forward  receiving  their  first 
lecture  on  seamanship  from  Cap'n  Abernethy  and 
Kuroki,  to  carry  the  box  into  the  cabin. 

But  as  George  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  lifted 
the  box  to  their  shoulders,  Cleggett  was  startled 
oy  a  loud  and  violent  oath;  a  veritable  bellow  of 
v  lasphemy  that  made  him  shudder.  Turning,  he 
saw  that  an  automobile  had  paused  in  the  road.  In 
the  forward  part  of  the  machine  stood  Loge,  raving 
in  an  almost  demoniac  fury  and  pointing  at  the  box. 
He  writhed  in  the  grip  of  three  men  who  endeavored 
to  restrain  him.  One  of  them  was  the  sinister 
Pierre.  Hoisting  himself,  as  it  were,  on  a  mounting 
billow  of  his  own  profanity,  Loge  cast  himself  with 
a  wide  swimming  motion  of  his  arms  from  the  auto. 
But  one  of  the  men  clung  to  him;  they  came  to  the 
ground  together  like  tackier  and  tackled  in  a  foot 
ball  game.  The  others  cast  themselves  out  of  the 
machine  and  flung  themselves  upon  their  leader ;  he 
fought  like  a  lion,  but  he  was  finally  overpowered 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


and  thrown  back  into  the  auto,  which  was  imme 
diately  started  up  and  which  made  off  towards 
Fairport  at  a  rattling  speed.  Three  hundred  yards 
away,  however,  Loge  rose  again  and  shook  a  furious 
fist  at  the  Jasper  B.,  and  though  Cleggett  could  not 
distinguish  the  words,  the  sense  of  Loge's  impotent 
rage  rolled  towards  him  on  the  wind  in  a  roaring, 
vibrant  bass. 

The  sight  of  the  box  that  he  had  not  been  able  to 
buy,  in  Cleggett's  possession,  had  stirred  him  beyond 
all  caution ;  he  had  actually  contemplated  an  attempt 
to  rush  the  Jasper  B.  in  broad  daylight. 

But  while  this  queer  tableau  of  baffled  rage  was 
enacting  itself  on  the  starboard  bow  of  the  Jasper  B., 
a  no  less  strange  and  far  less  explicable  thing  was 
occurring  on  the  port  side.  The  swish  of  oars  and 
the  ripple  of  a  moving  boat  drew  Cleggett's  atten 
tion  in  that  direction  as  Loge's  booming  threats 
grew  fainter.  He  saw  that  two  oarsmen,  near 
the  eastern  and  farther  side  of  the  canal,  had  al 
lowed  the  dainty,  varnished  little  craft  they  were 
supposed  to  propel  to  come  to  a  rest  in  spite  of  the 
evident  displeasure  of  a  man  who  sat  in  its  stern. 
This  third  man  was  the  same  that  Cleggett  had  seen 
on  the  deck  of  the  Annabel  Lee  with  a  spy  glass,  and 

169 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

again  that  same  morning  driving,  the  two  almost 
nude  figures  up  and  down  the  canal. 

The  two  oarsmen,  Cleggett  saw  with  surprise, 
rowed  with  shackled  feet;  their  feet  were,  indeed, 
chained  to  the  boat  itself.  About  the  wrists  of 
each  were  steel  bands ;  fixed  to  these  bands  were 
chains,  the  other  ends  of  which  were  locked  to  their 
oars.  They  were,  in  effect,  galley  slaves. 

All  this  iron  somewhat  hampered  their  move 
ments.  But  the  reason  of  their  pause  was  an  en 
grossing  interest  in  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers, 
which  stood,  as  has  already  been  said,  on  the  port 
side  of  the  cabin,  on  one  end,  and  so  was  visible 
from  their  boat.  They  were  looking  at  it  with 
slack  oars,  dropped  jaws  and  starting  eyes ;  the  thing 
seemed  to  have  fascinated  them  and  bereft  them  of 
motion;  it  was  as  if  they  were  unable  to  get  past 
it  at  all.  Elmer,  worn  out  by  his  many  long  vigils, 
lay  asleep  on  the  deck  at  the  foot  of  the  box,  with 
an  arm  flung  over  his  face. 

The  stout  man,  after  vainly  endeavoring  to  start 
his  oarsmen  with  words,  took  up  an  extra  oar  and 
began  vigorously  prodding  them  with  it.  Cleggett 
had  not  seen  this  man  look  towards  the  Jasper  B., 
but  he  nevertheless  had  the  feeling  that  the  man 

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The  Second  Oblong  Box 


had  missed  little  of  what  had  been  going  on  there. 
He  seemed  to  be  that  kind  of  man. 

His  crew  responding  to  the  stabs  of  the  oar, 
the  little  vessel  went  perhaps  fifty  yards  farther  up 
the  canal  towards  Parker's,  and  then  swung  daintily 
around  and  came  back  towards  the  Jasper  B.  at 
almost  the  speed  of  a  racing  shell,  the  men  in  chains 
bending  doggedly  to  their  work.  Cleggett  saw  that 
the  boat  must  pass  close  to  the  Jasper  B.,  and  leaned 
over  the  port  rail. 

The  man  in  the  stern  had  picked  up  a  magazine 
and  was  lolling  back  reading  it.  As  the  boat  passed 
under  him  Cleggett  saw  on  the  cover  page  of  the 
magazine  a  picture  of  the  very  man  who  was  perus 
ing  it.  It  was  a  singularly  urbane  face;  both  the 
counterfeit  presentment  on  the  cover  page  and  the 
real  face  were  smiling  and  calm  and  benign.  Cleg 
gett  could  read  the  legend  on  the  magazine  cover 
accompanying  the  picture.  It  ran: 

WILTON  BARNSTABLE  TELLS  IN  THIS  ISSUE  THE  INSIDE  STORY 
OF  How  HE  BROKE  UP  THE  GIGANTIC  SMUGGLING  CONSPIRACY. 

At  that  instant  the  man  dropped  the  magazine 
and  looked  Cleggett  full  in  the  face.  He  waved  his 
arm  in  a  meaning  gesture  in  the  direction  in  which 

171 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Loge  had  disappeared  and  said,  with  a  gentle  shake 
of  his  head  at  Cleggett,  as  if  he  were  chiding  a 
naughty  child : 

"When  thieves  fall  out — !  When  thieves  fall 
out,  my  dear  sir!" 

As  he  swept  by  he  resumed  his  magazine  with 
the  pleased  air  of  a  man  who  has  delivered  himself 
of  a  brilliant  epigram ;  it  showed  in  his  very  shoul 
ders. 

"And  that,"  murmured  Cleggett,  "is  Wilton  Barn- 
stable,  the  great  detective !" 


CHAPTER    XIII 
THE  SOUL  OF  LOGAN  BLACK 

WILTON  BARNSTABLE,  the  great  de 
tective,  having  witnessed  Loge's  out 
burst  of  wrath,  had  thought  it  signified 
a  quarrel  between  thieves,  as  his  words  to  Cleggett 
indicated.  He  had  thought  Cleggett  a  crook,  and 
Loge's  ally. 

Loge,  on  the  other  hand,  had  thought  Cleggett  a 
detective.  He  had  addressed  him  as  "Mr.  Detec 
tive"  that  morning  at  Morris's.  Loge  believed  the 
Jasper  B.  and  the  Annabel  Lee  to  be  allied  against 
him. 

Whereas  Cleggett,  until  he  had  recognized  Wilton 
Barnstable  in  the  boat,  had  thought  it  likely  that 
the  Annabel  Lee  and  Morris's  were  allied  against 
the  Jasper  B. 

Now  that  Cleggett  knew  the  commander  of  the 
Annabel  Lee  to  be  Wilton  Barnstable,  his  first  im 
pulse  was  to  go  to  the  Great  Detective  and  invite 
his  cooperation  against  Loge  and  the  gang  at  Mor- 

173 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ris's.  But  almost  instantly  he  reflected  that  he 
could  not  do  this.  For  there  was  the  box  of  Regi 
nald  Maltravers !  Indeed,  how  did  he  know  that  it 
was  not  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers  which  had 
brought  the  Great  Detective  to  that  vicinity?  This 
man — of  world-wide  fame,  and  reputed  to  possess 
an  almost  miraculous  instinct  in  the  unraveling  of 
criminal  mysteries — might  be  even  now  on  the  trail 
of  Lady  Agatha.  If  so,  he  was  Cleggett's  enemy. 
When  it  came  to  a  choice  between  the  championship 
of  Lady  Agatha  and  the  defiance  of  Wilton  Barn- 
stable,  and  all  that  he  represented,  Cleggett  did  not 
hesitate  for  an  instant. 

There  were  still  some  aspects  of  the  situation  in 
which  he  found  himself  that  were  as  puzzling  as 
ever  to  Cleggett.  It  is  true  that  he  now  knew  why 
Loge's  men  had  been  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel ;  they 
had  been  there,  no  doubt,  in  an  attempt  to  get  posses 
sion  of  the  oblong,  unpainted  box  which  had  caused 
Loge's  explosion  of  wrath ;  the  box  which  was  the 
real  thing  Loge  had  tried  to  buy  from  Cleggett  when 
he  dickered  for  the  purchase  of  the  Jasper  B.  But 
why  this  box  should  have  been  in  the  hold  of  the 
vessel,  Cleggett  could  not  understand.  And  how 
Loge's  men  had  been  able  to  get  into  and  out  of 


The  Soul  of  Logan  Black 


the  hold  without  his  knowledge  still  perplexed  him. 

The  motive  behind  the  attempt  to  dynamite  the 
vessel  was  clear.  Having  failed  to  purchase  it,  hav 
ing  failed  to  recover  the  box  from  it,  Loge  had 
sought  to  destroy  it  with  all  on  board.  But  the 
strange  character  of  this  explosion  still  defied  his 
powers  of  analysis.  And  then  there  was  the  tenth 
Earl  of  Claiborne's  signet  ring  on  the  dead  hand. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  it  was  a  circumstance  which 
connected  his  fortunes  with  those  of  Lady  Agatha, 
he  could  make  nothing  at  all  of  the  signet  ring. 
What,  he  asked  himself  again  and  again,  was  the 
connection  of  the  criminal  gang  at  Morris's  with 
the  proudest  Earl  in  England? 

Loge  himself  was  a  puzzle  to  Cleggett.  The 
man  was  a  counterfeiter.  That  he  knew.  The 
"queer"  twenty-dollar  bill,  which  he  had  practically 
acknowledged,  left  no  doubt  of  that.  But  he  was 
more  than  a  counterfeiter.  Cleggett  believed  him 
to  be  also  an  anarchist.  At  least  he  was  associated 
with  anarchists. 

But  counterfeiting  and  anarchy  are  not  ordinarily 
found  together.  The  anarchist  is  not  a  criminal  in 
the  more  sordid  sense.  He  is  the  enemy  of  society 
as  at  present  organized.  He  considers  society  to  be 

175 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

built  on  a  thieving  basis;  he  is  not  himself  a  thief. 
He  scorns  and  hates  society,  wishes  to  see  it  over 
turned,  and  believes  himself  superior  to  it.  He  will 
commit  the  most  savage  atrocities  for  the  cause  and 
cheerfully  die  for  his  principles.  The  anarchist  is 
not  a  crook.  He  is  an  idealist. 

Convinced  that  the  unpainted  oblong  box  would 
furnish  a  clew  to  the  man's  real  personality,  Cleg- 
gett,  assisted  by  Lady  Agatha  and  Dr.  Farnsworth, 
opened  it  in  the  cabin. 

They  first  took  out  a  number  of  plates,  some 
broken,  some  intact,  for  the  manufacture  of  coun 
terfeit  notes  of  various  denominations.  There  was 
some  of  the  fibrous  paper  used  in  this  process.  There 
was  a  quantity  of  the  apparatus  essential  to  engrav 
ing  the  plates.  This  stuff  more  than  half  filled 
the  box. 

Then  there  were  a  number  of  books. 

"Elementary  textbooks,"  said  Dr.  Farnsworth, 
glancing  at  them.  On  the  flyleaf  of  one  of  them 
was  written  in  a  bold,  firm  hand :  "Logan  Black." 

"Loge — or  Logan  Black,"  said  Dr.  Farnsworth, 
"has  been  giving  himself  an  education  in  the  manu 
facture  of  high  explosives." 

"But  these  aren't  textbooks,"  said  Lady  Agatha, 


The  Soul  of  Logan  Black 


who  had  pulled  out  three  long,  narrow  volumes  from 
the  pile.  "They're  in  manuscript,  and  they  look 
more  like  account  books." 

The  first  of  them,  in  Loge's  handwriting,  con 
tained  a  series  of  notes,  mostly  unintelligible  to 
Cleggett,  dealing  with  experiments  in  two  sorts  of 
manufacture:  first,  the  preparation  of  counterfeit 
money;  second,  the  production  of  dynamite  bombs. 

The  second  of  the  manuscript  books  was  in  cipher. 
Cleggett  might  have  deciphered  it  without  assist 
ance,  for  he  was  skilled  in  these  matters,  but  the 
labor  was  not  necessary.  The  book  was  for  Loge's 
own  eye.  A  loose  sheet  of  paper  folded  between  the 
leaves  gave  the  key. 

The  book  showed  that  Loge  had  been  employed  as 
an  expert  operator,  in  the  pay  of  a  certain  radical 
organization,  to  pull  off  dynamiting  jobs  in  various 
parts  of  the  country.  This  was  his  account  book 
with  the  organization.  He  had  done  his  work  and 
taken  his  pay  as  methodically  as  a  plumber  might. 
And  he  had  been  paid  well.  Cleggett  guessed  that 
Loge  was  not  particularly  interested  in  the  work  in 
its  relationship  to  the  revolutionary  cause;  it  was 
the  money  to  be  made  in  this  way,  and  not  any  par 
ticular  sympathy  with  his  employers,  which  attracted 

177 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Loge,  so  Cleggett  divined.  Cleggett  was  aston 
ished  at  the  number  of  jobs  which  Loge  had  en 
gineered.  The  book  threw  light  on  mysterious  ex 
plosions  which  had  occurred  throughout  a  period 
of  five  years. 

But  it  was  the  third  manuscript  book  which  dis 
played  the  real  Logan  Black. 

This  was  also  in  cipher.  Dr.  Farnsworth  and 
Cleggett  had  translated  but  a  few  lines  of  it  when 
they  perceived  that  it  was  a  diary.  With  a  vanity 
almost  inconceivable  to  those  who  have  not  reflected 
upon  the  criminal  nature,  Loge  had  written  here 
the  tale  of  his  own  life,  for  his  own  reading.  He 
had  written  it  in  loving  detail.  It  was,  in  fact,  the 
book  in  which  he  looked  when  he  wished  to  admire 
himself. 

"It  is  odd,"  said  Cleggett,  "that  so  clever  a  man 
should  write  down  his  own  story  in  this  way." 

'This  book,"  said  Farnsworth,  "would  be  a  boon 
to  a  psychologist  interested  in  criminology.  You 
say  it  is  odd.  But  with  a  certain  type  of  criminal, 
it  is  almost  usual.  The  human  soul  is  full  of  strange 
impulses.  One  of  the  strangest  is  towards  just  this 
sort  of  record.  Cunning,  and  the  vanity  which 
destroys  cunning,  often  exist  side  by  side.  The 

178 


The  Soul  of  Logan  Black 


criminal  of  a  certain  type  almost  worships  himself; 
he  is  profoundly  impressed  with  his  own  cleverness. 
He  is  a  braggart;  he  swaggers;  he  defeats  himself. 
A  strange  idiocy  mingles  with  his  cleverness." 

"Even  people  who  are  not  criminals  do  just  that 
sort  of  thing,"  said  Lady  Agatha.  "Look  at  Samuel 
Pepys.  He  was  one  of  the  most  timid  of  beings. 
And  he  valued  his  place  in  the  world  mightily.  But 
he  wrote  down  the  story  of  his  own  disgrace  in  his 
diary — it  had  to  come  out  of  him !  And  then,  timid 
and  cautious  as  he  was,  he  did  not  destroy  the  book ! 
He  let  it  get  out  of  his  possession." 

It  was  an  evil,  a  monstrous  personality  which 
leered  out  of  Logan  Black's  diary.  Boastful  of  his 
own  iniquity,  swaggering  in  his  wickedness,  fatuous 
with  self-love,  he  recounted  his  deeds  with  gusto 
and  with  particularity.  They  did  not  read  a  quar 
ter  of  this  terrible  autobiography  at  the  time,  but 
they  read  enough  to  see  the  man  in  the  process  of 
building  up  a  criminal  organization  of  his  own,  with 
ramifications  of  the  most  surprising  nature. 

"This  man,"  said  Dr.  Farnsworth,  with  a  shud 
der,  "actually  has  the  ambition  to  be  the  head  of 
nothing  less  than  a  crime  trust." 

"It  seems  to  be  something  more  than  an  ambi- 
179 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

tion,"  said  Cleggett.  "It  seems  to  be  almost  an 
accomplished  fact." 

"Ugh !"  said  Lady  Agatha,  with  a  gesture  of  dis 
gust,  "he's  like  a  great  horrid  spider  spinning  webs !" 

Interested  in  anarchy  only  on  its  practical  side, 
as  the  paid  dynamiter  of  the  inner  circle  of  radicals, 
Logan  Black  in  his  diary  jeered  at  and  mocked  the 
cause  he  served.  And  more  than  that,  the  man 
seemed  to  take  a  perverted  pleasure  in  attaching 
to  himself  young  enthusiasts  of  the  radical  type, 
eager  to  follow  him  as  the  disinterested  leader  of  a 
group  of  Reds,  and  then  betraying  them  into  the 
most  sordid  sort  of  crime.  Cleggett  found — and 
could  imagine  the  grimace  of  malevolent  satisfaction 
with  which  it  had  been  written — this  note : 

Heinrich  is  about  ready  to  leave  off  talking 
his  cant  of  universal  brotherhood,  and  make  a 
little  easy  money  in  the  way  I  have  shown  him. 
It  will  be  interesting  to  see  what  happens  in 
side  of  Heinrich  when  he  realizes  he  is  not  an 
idealist,  but  -a  criminal.  Will  he  stick  to  me  on 
the  new  lay?  But  those  Germans  are  so  senti 
mental — he  may  commit  suicide. 

Cleggett  recalled  the  manhandling  Heinrich  had 
received.  A  little  farther  along  he  came  upon  this 
entry : 

180 


The  Soul  of  Logan  Black 


The  Italian-American  boy  is  a  find.  Jones  and 
Giuseppe!  Puritan  father,  Italian  mother — and 
he  worships  me !  It  will  be  a  test  for  my  per 
sonal  magnetism,  the  handling  of  Giuseppe  Jones 
will.  He  hates  a  thief  worse  than  the  devil  hates 
holy  water.  If  I  could  make  him  steal  for  me,  I 
would  know  that  I  could  do  anything. 

"That's  our  young  poet  in  the  forecastle!"  said 
Cleggett.  "I  wonder  if  Loge  still  held  him."  And 
then  as  the  memory  of  the  boy's  ravings  came  to 
him  he  mused :  "Yes — he  held  the  boy !  That  is 
what  the  fellow  meant  in  his  delirium.  Do  you 
remember  that  he  kept  saying:  Tm  a  revolution 
ist,  not  a  crook!'?  And  yet  he  continued  to  obey 
Loge!" 

"Is  it  not  strange/'  said  Lady  Agatha,  "that  the 
man  should  take  such  pride  in  working  ruin?" 

All  three  were  silent  for  a  space.  And  then  they 
looked  at  each  other  with  a  shiver.  The  sense  of 
the  strong  and  sinister  personality  of  Logan  Black 

• 

struck  on  their  spirits  like  a  bleak  wind. 

Cleggett  was  the  first  to  recover  himself. 

"God  willing,"  he  said  solemnly,  "I  will  bring  that 
man  to  justice  personally!" 

Just  then  two  bells  struck.  It  had  taken  them 
more  time  than  they  had  realized  to  make  even  a 

181 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

partial  examination  of  the  contents  of  the  box. 
Cleggett,  when  the  bell  sounded,  looked  at  his  watch 
to  see  what  time  it  was — he  was  still  a  little  un 
familiar  with  the  nautical  system. 

"He  will  go  to  any  length  to  get  this  back  into 
his  possession,"  said  Cleggett,  as  he  dumped  the 
heap  of  incriminating  evidence  back  into  the  box 
and  began  to  nail  the  boards  on  again. 

"Any  length,"  echoed  the  Doctor. 

Pat  upon  the  thought  came  the  sound  of  taxicabs 
without.  They  went  on  deck  and  saw  a  sinister 
procession  rolling  by.  It  consisted  of  three  ma 
chines,  and  there  were  three  men  in  each  cab.  Loge 
and  Pierre  were  in  the  foremost  one.  None  of  the 
company  vouchsafed  so  much  as  a  glance  in  the 
direction  of  the  Jasper  B.  as  the  cabs  whirled  past 
towards  Morris's.  It  was  undoubtedly  a  reinforce 
ment  of  gunmen. 

"Ah !"  said  Cleggett,  pointing  to  them.  "The  real 
battle  is  about  to  begin!  They  are  making  ready 
for  the  attack  1" 


CHAPTER    XIV 
CLEGGETT  STANDS  BY  HIS  SHIP 

CLEGGETT  did  not  fear  (or  rather,  expect, 
since  there  was  very  little  that  Cleggett 
feared)  an  attack  until  well  after  nightfall. 
Nevertheless,  he  began  to  prepare  for  it  at  once. 
He  called  the  entire  ship's  company  aft,  with  the 
exception  of  Miss  Medley,  who  was  on  duty  with 
Giuseppe  Jones. 

"My  friends — for  I  hope  we  stand  in  the  relation 
of  friends  as  well  as  that  of  commander  and  crew — 
I  have  every  reason  to  expect  that  the  enemy  will 
make  a  demonstration  in  force  sometime  during 
the  night,"  he  said.  "We  have  opposed  to  us  the 
leader  of  a  dangerous  and  powerful  criminal  or 
ganization.  He  is,  in  fact,  the  president  of  a  crime 
trust.  He  will  stop  at  nothing  to  compass  the  de 
struction  of  the  Jasper  B.  and  all  on  board  her.  My 
quarrel  with  him  has  become,  in  a  sense,  personal. 
I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  to  share  my  risk  unless 
you  choose  to  do  so  voluntarily.  Therefore,  if 

183 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

there  is  anyone  of  you  who  wishes  to  leave  the 
Jasper  B.,  let  him  do  it  now." 

Cleggett  paused.  But  not  a  man  moved.  On  the 
contrary,  a  little  murmur  of  something  like  reproach 
ran  around  the  semicircle.  The  ship's  company 
looked  in  each  other's  eyes;  they  stood  shifting 
their  feet  uneasily. 

Finally  Cap'n  Abernethy  spoke,  clearing  his 
throat  with  a  prefatory  hem : 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me,  Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  the 
Captain,  with  less  than  his  usual  circumlocution, 
"I'd  say  the  boys  here  ain't  flattered  by  what  you've 
just  said.  The  boys  here  does  consider  themselves 
friends  of  yours,  and  if  you  was  anxious  to  hear 
my  opinion  of  it  I'd  say  you've  hurt  their  feelin's 
by  your  way  of  putting  it.  Speakin'  for  myself, 
Mr.  Cleggett,  as  the  nautical  commander  of  this 
here  ship  to  the  military  commander,  I  don't  mind 
owning  up  that  my  feelin's  is  hurt." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  George  the  Greek,  addressing 
the  nautical  commander,  and  the  word  went  from 
lip  to  lip. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  Dr.  Farnsworth,  "the  Cap 
tain  speaks  for  us  all." 

And  the  Reverend  Mr.  Calthrop  remarked  with 
184 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

a  sigh :  "You  may  have  cause  to  doubt  my  circum 
spection,  Mr.  Cleggett,  but  you  have  no  cause  to 
doubt  my  courage." 

Cleggett  was  not  the  sort  of  man  who  is  ashamed 
to  acknowledge  an  error.  "Friends,"  he  cried  im 
pulsively,  "forgive  me !  I  should  have  known  better 
than  to  phrase  my  remarks  as  I  did.  I  would  not 
have  hurt  your  feelings  for  worlds.  I  know  you 
are  devoted  to  me.  I  call  for  volunteers  for  the 
perilous  adventure  which  is  before  us!" 

The  ship's  company  stepped  forward  as  one  man. 
As  if  by  magic  the  atmosphere  cleared. 

"Now,"  said  Cleggett,  smiling  back  on  the  en 
thusiastic  faces  before  him,  but  inexpressibly 
touched  by  the  fineness  of  his  crew's  devotion,  "to 
get  to  the  point.  There  are  seven  of  us,  but  there 
are  at  least  a  dozen  of  them.  We  have,  however,  the 
advantage  in  position,  for  we  can  find  cover  on 
the  ship,  whereas  they  must  attack  from  the  open. 
More  than  that,  we  will  have  the  advantage  in  arms ; 
here  is  a  magazine  rifle  for  each  of  you,  while  they, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  will  attack  with  pistols.  We 
must  keep  them  at  a  distance,  if  possible.  If  they 
should  attempt  to  rush  us  we  will  meet  them  with 
cutlasses  and  sabers." 

185 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  Lady  Agatha,  rising  when 
he  had  finished,  and  speaking  with  animation,  "will 
you  permit  me  to  make  a  suggestion  ?" 

She  went  on,  without  waiting  for  an  answer: 
"It  is  this:  Choose  your  own  ground  for  this 
battle !  The  Jasper  B.  is  now  a  full-rigged  schooner. 
Very  well,  then,  sail  her!  At  the  moment  you  are 
attacked,  weigh  anchor,  fight  your  way  to  the  mouth 
of  the  canal,  take  up  a  position  in  the  bay  in  front 
of  Morris's  within  easy  rifle  range  and  out  of  pistol 
shot,  and  compel  the  place  to  surrender  on  your 
own  terms!" 

As  the  brilliance  of  this  plan  flashed  upon  her 
hearers,  applause  ran  around  the  room,  and  Kuroki, 
who  spoke  seldom,  cried  in  admiration: 

"The  Honorable  Miss  Englishman  have  hit  her 
head  on  the  nail!  Let  there  be  some  naval  war 
fares!" 

"You  are  right,"  cried  Cleggett,  catching  fire 
with  the  idea,  "a  hundred  times  right!  And  why 
wait  to  be  attacked?  Let  us  carry  the  war  to  the 
enemy's  coast.  Crack  all  sail  upon  her! — Up  with 
the  anchors!  We  will  show  these  gentry  that  the 
blood  of  Drake,  Nelson,  and  Old  Dave  Farragut  still 
runs  red  in  the  veins  of  their  countrymen!" 

186 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

"Banzai!''  cried  Kuroki.  "Also  Honorable  Ad 
miral  Togo's  veins!" 

A  good  breeze  had  sprung  up  out  of  the  north 
west  while  the  conference  in  the  cabin  was  in 
progress. 

Cleggett  was  relieved  that  it  was  not  from  the 
south.  There  is  not  much  room  to  maneuver  a 
schooner  in  a  canal,  and  a  breeze  from  the  south 
might  have  sailed  the  Jasper  B.  backwards  towards 
Parker's  Beach,  which  would  undoubtedly  have 
given  the  enemy  the  idea  that  Cleggett  was  retreat 
ing.  The  Jasper  B.'s  bow  was  pointed  south,  and 
Cleggett  was  naturally  anxious  that  she  should  sail 
south. 

At  the  outset  a  slight  difficulty  presented  itself 
with  regard  to  the  anchors — for  although,  as  has 
been  explained  before,  the  Jasper  B.  was  a  remark 
ably  stable  vessel,  Cleggett  had  had  the  new  anchors 
furnished  by  the  contractor  let  down.  Having  the 
anchors  down  seemed,  somehow,  to  make  things 
more  shipshape.  It  appeared  that  no  one  of 
the  adventurers  was  acquainted  with  an  anchor 
song,  and  Cleggett,  and,  indeed,  all  on  board, 
felt  that  these  anchors  should  be  hoisted  to  the 
accompaniment  of  some  rousing  chantey.  Lady 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Agatha    was    especially    insistent    on    the    point. 

While  they  stood  about  the  capstan  debating  the 
matter  the  Reverend  Simeon  Calthrop  hesitatingly 
offered  a  suggestion  which  showed  that,  while  he 
was  a  novice  as  far  as  the  nautical  life  was  con 
cerned,  he  was  also  a  person  of  resource. 

"How  many  of  those  present,"  inquired  the 
young  preacher,  "know  'Onward  Christian  Sol 
diers'?" 

All  were  acquainted  with  the  hymn;  the  pastor 
grasped  a  capstan  bar  and  struck  up  the  song  in  an 
agreeable  tenor  voice;  they  put  their  backs  into  the 
work  and  their  hearts  into  the  song,  and  the  anchors 
of  the  Jasper  B.  came  out  of  mud  to  the  stirring 
notes  of  "Onward  Christian  Soldiers,  marching  as 
to  war !" 

While  they  were  so  engaged  the  breeze  strength 
ened  perceptibly.  Looking  towards  the  west,  Cleg- 
gett  perceived  the  sun  sinking  below  the  ^orizon. 
A  long,  blue,  low-lying  bank  of  clouds  seemed  to 
engulf  it;  for  a  moment  the  top  of  this  cloud  was 
shot  through  with  a  golden  color;  then  a  mass  of 
quicker  moving,  nearer  vapors  from  the  north 
seemed  to  leap  suddenly  nearer  still ;  to  extend  itself 
at  a  bound  over  almost  a  third  of  the  sky;  in  a 

188 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

breath   the   day    was    gone;    a    storm    threatened. 

The  rising  wind  made  the  task  of  getting  the 
canvas  on  the  poles  extraordinarily  difficult.  Cleg 
gett  was  well  aware  that  the  usual  method  of  proce 
dure,  in  the  presence  of  a  storm,  is  rather  to  take 
in  sail  than  to  crack  on;  but,  always  original,  he 
decided  in  this  case  to  reverse  the  common  custom. 
Ashore  or  at  sea,  he  never  permitted  himself  to  be 
the  slave  of  conventionalities.  The  Jasper  B,  had 
lain  so  long  in  one  spot  that  it  would  undoubtedly 
take  more  than  a  capful  of  wind  to  move  her. 
Cleggett  did  not  know  when  he  would  get  such  a 
strong  wind  again,  coming  from  the  right  direction, 
and  determined  to  make  the  most  of  this  one  while 
he  had  it.  Genius  partly  consists  in  the  acuteness 
which  grasps  opportunities. 

From  the  struggles  of  Cap'n  Abernethy  and  the 
crew  with  the  canvas,  which  he  saw  none  too  clearly 
through  the  increasing  dusk  from  his  post  at  the 
wheel,  Cleggett  judged  that  the  wind  was  indeed 
strong  enough  for  his  purpose.  Yards,  sheets  and 
sails  seemed  to  be  acting  in  the  most  singular  man 
ner.  He  could  not  remember  reading  of  any  parallel 
case  in  the  treatises  on  navigation  which  he  had 
perused.  Every  now  and  then  the  Cap'n  or  one  of 

J89 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  crew  would  be  jerked  clean  off  his  feet  by 
some  quick  and  unexpected  motion  of  a  sail  and 
flung  into  the  water.  When  this  occurred  the  person 
who  had  been  ducked  crawled  out  on  the  bank  of 
the  canal  again  and  went  on  board  by  way  of  the 
gangplank,  returning  stubbornly  to  his  task. 

The  booms  in  particular  were  possessed  of  a  rest 
less  and  unstable  spirit.  They  made  sudden  swoops, 
sweeps,  and  dashes  in  all  directions.  Sometimes  as 
many  as  three  of  the  crew  of  the  Jasper  B.  would 
be  knocked  to  the  deck  or  into  the  water  by  a  boom 
at  the  same  time.  But  Cleggett  noted  with  satis 
faction  that  they  were  plucky;  they  stuck  valiantly 
to  the  job.  A  doubt  assailed  Cleggett  as  to  the 
competence  of  Cap'n  Abernethy,  but  he  was  loyal 
and  fought  it  down. 

Finally  Cap'n  Abernethy  hit  upon  a  novel  and 
ingenious  idea.  He  tied  stout  lines  to  the  ends 
of  the  booms.  The  other  ends  of  these  ropes  he 
ran  through  the  eyes  of  a  couple  of  spare  anchors. 
Taking  the  anchors  ashore,  he  made  them  fast  to 
the  wooden  platform  which  was  alongside  the  Jas 
per  B.  Then  he  took  up  the  slack  in  the  lines,  pull 
ing  them  taut  and  fastening  them  tightly. 

Thus  the  booms  were  held  fast  and  stiff  in  posi- 
190 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

tion,  and  the  crew  could  get  the  canvas  spread  with 
out  being  endangered  by  their  strange  and  unac 
countable  actions. 

This  brilliant  idea  of  anchoring  the  booms  to 
the  land  would  not  have  been  practicable  had  it 
not  been  for  a  whimsical  cessation  of  the  wind,  a  lull 
such  as  is  incident  to  the  coming  of  spring  storms 
in  these  latitudes.  While  the  wind  was  in  abeyance 
the  men  got  the  sails  spread.  Then  the  Captain  un 
tied  the  lines,  brought  the  spare  anchors  on  board, 
knocked  the  gangplank  loose  with  a  few  blows  of 
his  ax,  and  waited  for  the  wind  to  resume. 

When  the  wind  did  blow  again  it  came  in  a  gust 
which  was  accompanied  by  a  twinkle  of  lightning 
over  the  whole  sky  and  a  grumble  of  thunder.  A 
whirl  of  dust  and  fine  gravel  enveloped  the  Jasper  B. 
For  a  moment  it  was  like  a  sandstorm.  A  few  large 
drops  of  water  fell.  The  gust  was  violent;  the 
sails  filled  with  it  and  struggled  like  kites  to  be 
free;  here  and  there  a  strand  of  rope  snapped;  the 
masts  bent  and  creaked;  the  booms  jumped  and 
swung  round  like  live  things ;  the  whole  ship  from 
bowsprit  to  rudder  shook  and  trembled  with  the 
assault. 

Cleggett,  watchful  at  the  wheel,  prepared  to  turn 
191 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

her  nose  away  from  the  bank,  but  he  was  astonished 
to  perceive  that  in  spite  of  her  quaking  and  shiver 
ing  the  Jasper  B.  did  not  move  one  inch  forward 
from  her  position.  He  was  prepared  for  a  certain 
stability  on  the  part  of  the  Jasper  B.,  but  not  for 
quite  so  much  of  it. 

With  the  next  gust  the  storm  was  on  them  in 
earnest.  This  blast  came  with  zigzag  flashes  of 
lightning  that  showed  the  heavens  riotous  with  bat 
talions  of  charging  clouds;  it  came  with  deafening 
thunder  and  a  torrential  discharge  of  rain.  One 
would  have  thought  the  power  of  the  wind  suffi 
cient  to  set  a  steel  battleship  scudding  before  it 
like  a  wooden  shoe.  And  yet  the  extraordinary 
Jasper  B.,  although  she  shrieked  and  groaned  and 
seemed  to  stagger  with  the  force  of  the  blow,  did 
not  move  either  forward  or  sidewise. 

She  flinched,  but  she  stood  her  ground. 

Second  by  second  the  storm  increased  in  fury ;  in 
a  moment  it  was  no  longer  merely  a  storm,  it  was 
a  tempest.  Cleggett,  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his 
masts,  now  ordered  his  men  to  take  in  sail.  But 
even  as  he  gave  the  order  he  realized  that  it  could 
no  longer  be  done.  A  cloudburst,  a  hurricane,  an 
electrical  bombardment,  struck  the  Jasper  B.  all  at 

192 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

once.  One  could  not  hear  one's  own  voice.  In  the 
glare  of  the  lightning  Cleggett  saw  the  rigging  toss 
ing  in  an  indescribable  confusion  of  canvas,  spars, 
and  ropes.  Both  masts  and  the  bowsprit  snapped 
at  almost  the  same  instant.  The  whole  chaotic  mass 
was  lifted;  it  writhed  in  the  air  a  moment,  and  then 
it  came  crashing  down,  partly  on  the  deck  and  partly 
in  the  seething  waters  of  the  canal,  where  it  lay 
and  whipped  ship  and  water  with  lashing  tentacles 
of  wreckage. 

But  still  the  unusual  Jasper  B.  had  not  moved 
from  her  position. 

Cleggett's  men  had  had  warning  enough  to  save 
themselves.  They  gathered  around  him  to  wait  for 
orders.  More  than  one  of  them  cast  anxious  glances 
towards  the  land.  Shouting  to  them  to  attack  the 
debris  with  axes,  and  setting  the  example  himself, 
Cleggett  soon  saw  the  deck  clear  again,  and  the 
Jasper  B.,  to  all  intents,  the  same  hulk  she  had  been 
when  he  bought  her.  But  such  was  the  fury  of 
the  tempest  that  even  with  the  big  kites  gone  the 
Jasper  B.  continued  to  shake  and  quiver  where  she 
lay.  Speech  was  almost  impossible  on  deck,  but 
Cap'n  Abernethy  signed  to  Cleggett  that  he  had 
something  important  to  say  to  him. 

193 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

The  whole  company  adjourned  to  the  cabin,  and 
there,  shouting  to  make  himself  heard,  the  Cap'n 
cried  out: 

"Her  timbers  have  been  strained  something  ter 
rible,  Mr.  Cleggett.  She  ain't  what  I  would  call 
safe  and  seaworthy  any  more.  The'  don't  seem  to 
be  any  danger  of  her  sailin'  off,  but  that's  no  sign 
she  can't  be  blowed  over  onto  her  beam  ends  and 
sunk  with  all  on  board.  If  you  was  to  ask  me,  Mr. 
Cleggett,  I'd  say  the  time  had  come  to  leave  the 
Jasper  B." 

The  anxiety  depicted  on  the  faces  of  the  little 
circle  about  him  might  have  communicated  itself 
to  a  less  intrepid  nature.  The  old  Cap'n  himself 
was  no  coward.  Indeed,  in  owning  to  his  alarm 
he  had  really  done  a  brave  thing,  since  few  have 
the  moral  courage  to  proclaim  themselves  afraid. 
But  Cleggett  was  a  man  of  iron.  Although  the 
tempest  smote  the  hulk  with  blow  after  blow,  al 
though  both  earth  and  water  seemed  to  lie  prostrate 
and  trampled  beneath  its  unappeasable  fury,  Cleg 
gett  had  no  thought  of  yielding. 

Unconsciously  he  drew  himself  up.  It  seemed  to 
his  crew  that  he  actually  gained  in  girth  and  height. 
The  soul,  in  certain  great  moments,  seems  to  have 

194 


Cleggett  Stands  by  His  Ship 

power  to  expand  the  body  and  inform  it  with  the 
quality  of  immortality;  Ajax,  in  his  magnificent 
gesture  of  defiance,  is  all  spirit.  Cleggett,  with  his 
hand  on  his  hip,  uttered  these  words,  not  without 
their  sublimity: 

"Whether  the  Jasper  B.  sinks  or  swims,  her  com 
mander  will  share  her  fate.     I  stay  by  my  ship!" 


CHAPTER    XV 
NIGHT,  TEMPEST,  LOVE  AND  BATTLE 

AND,  indeed,  if  Cleggett  had  been  of  a  mind 
to  abandon  the  vessel,  he  could  scarcely 
have  done  so  now.  For  his  words  were  no 
more  than  uttered  when  the  sharp  racket  of  a  volley 
of  pistol  shots  ripped  its  way  through  the  low- 
pitched  roaring  of  the  wind. 

Loge  had  chosen  the  height  of  the  storm  to 
mask  his  approach.  He  attacked  with  the  tempest. 

Without  a  word  Cleggett  put  out  the  light  in  the 
cabin.  His  men  grasped  their  weapons  and  fol 
lowed  him  to  the  deck.  A  flash  of  lightning  showed 
him,  through  the  driving  rain,  the  enemy  rushing 
towards  the  Jasper  B.,  pistol  in  hand.  They  were 
scarcely  sixty  yards  away,  and  were  firing  as  they 
came.  Loge,  a  revolver  in  one  hand,  and  Cleggett's 
own  sword  cane  in  the  other,  was  leading  the  rush. 
Besides  their  firearms,  each  of  Loge's  men  carried 
a  wicked-looking  machete. 

"Fire!"  shouted  Cleggett.  "Let  them  have  it, 
196 


Night,  Tempest,  Love  and  Battle 

men!"  And  the  rifles  blazed  from  the  deck  of  the 
Jasper  B.  in  a  crashing  volley.  Instantly  the  world 
was  dark  again;  it  was  impossible  to  determine 
whether  the  fire  of  the  Jasper  B.  had  taken  effect. 

"To  the  starboard  bulwark,"  cried  Cleggett,  "and 
give  them  hell  with  the  next  lightning  flash!" 

It  came  as  he  spoke,  with  its  vivid  glare  showing 
to  Cleggett  the  enemy  magnified  to  a  portentous 
bigness  against  a  background  of  chaotic  night.  Two 
or  three  of  them  stood,  leaning  keenly  forward ;  sev 
eral  of  the  others  had  dropped  to  one  knee;  the 
rifle  discharge  had  checked  the  rush,  and  they  also 
were  waiting  for  the  lightning.  Cleggett  and  his 
men  threw  a  second  volley  at  this  wavering  sil 
houette  of  astonishment. 

A  cartridge  jammed  in  the  mechanism  of  Cleg- 
gett's  gun.  With  an  oath  he  flung  the  weapon  to 
the  deck.  A  hand  thrust  another  one  into  his  grasp, 
and  Lady  Agatha's  voice  said  in  his  ear,  "Take 
this  one — it's  loaded." 

"My  God,"  said  Cleggett,  "I  thought  you  were 
in  the  cabin !" 

"Not  I!"  she  cried,  "I'm  loading!'' 

Just  then  the  lightning  came  again  and  showed  her 
to  him  plainly.  Drenched,  bare-armed,  bareheaded, 

197 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

her  hair  down  and  rolling  backward  in  a  rich  wet 
mass,  she  knelt  on  the  deck  behind  the  bulwark. 
Her  eyes  blazed  with  excitement,  and  there  was  a 
smile  upon  her  lips.  Beside  her  was  the  zinc  bucket 
half  full  of  cartridges.  George  tossed  a  rifle  to  her. 
She  flung  him  back  a  loaded  one,  and  began  method 
ically  to  fill  the  empty  one  with  cartridges. 

"Agatha,"  shouted  Cleggett,  catching  her  by  the 
wrist,  "go  to  the  cabin  at  once — you  will  get  your 
self  killed!" 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort !"  she  shouted. 

"I  love  you !"  cried  Cleggett,  beside  himself  with 
fear  for  her,  and  scarcely  knowing  what  his  words 
were.  "Do  you  hear — I  love  you,  and  I  won't  have 
you  killed !" 

A  bullet  ripped  its  way  through  the  bulwark,  per 
forated  the  zinc  bucket,  struck  the  gun  which  Lady 
Agatha  was  loading  and  knocked  it  from  her  hands. 

"Go  to  the  cabin  yourself !"  she  shouted  in  Cleg- 
gett's  ear.  "As  for  me,  I  like  it !" 

"I  tell  you,"  shouted  Cleggett,  "I  won't  have  you 
here — I  won't  have  you  killed !" 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  attempted  to  draw  her 
out  of  danger.  She  rose  likewise  and  struggled  with 
him  in  the  dark.  She  wrenched  herself  free,  and 

198 


Night,  Tempest,  Love  and  Battle 

in  doing  so  flung  him  back  against  the  rail ;  it  light 
ened  again,  and  she  screamed.  Cleggett  turned,  and 
with  the  next  flash  saw  that  one  of  the  enemy,  his 
face  bloody  from  the  graze  of  a  bullet  across  his 
forehead,  and  evidently  crazed  with  the  excitement 
of  fight  and  storm,  was  leaping  towards  the  rail 
of  the  vessel. 

Cleggett  stooped  to  pick  up  a  gun,  but  as  he 
stooped  the  madman  vaulted  over  the  bulwark  and 
landed  upon  him,  bearing  him  to  the  deck.  As  he 
struggled  to  his  feet  Lady  Agatha,  who  had  grasped 
a  cutlass,  cut  the  fellow  down.  The  man  fell  back 
over  the  rail  with  a  cry. 

For  a  long  moment  there  was  one  continuous  elec 
tric  flash  from  horizon  to  horizon,  and  Cleggett 
saw  her,  with  windblown  hair  and  wide  eyes  and 
parted  lips,  standing  poised  with  the  red  blade  in  her 
hand  beneath  the  driving  clouds,  the  figure  of  an 
antique  goddess. 

The  next  instant  all  was  dark;  her  arms  were 
around  his  neck  in  the  rain.  "Oh,  Clement,"  she 
sobbed,  "I've  killed  a  man !  I've  killed  a  man !" 


CHAPTER    XVI 
ROMANCE  REGNANT 

Cleggett  kissed  her.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER    XVII 
MISS  PRINGLE  CALLS  ON  MR.  CLEGGETT 

BUT  the  rushing  onset  of  events  struck  them 
apart.  Out  of  the  night  leaped  danger, 
enhancing  love  and  forbidding  it.  From 
the  starboard  bow  Captain  Abernethy  shrilled  a  cry 
of  warning,  and  the  heavy,  bellowing  voice  of  Loge 
shouted  an  answer  of  challenge  and  ferocity.  The 
wind  had  fallen,  but  the  lightning  played  from  the 
clouds  now  almost  without  intermission.  Cleggett 
saw  Loge  and  his  followers,  machete  in  hand,  fling 
ing  themselves  at  the  rail.  They  lifted  a  hoarse 
cheer  as  they  came.  The  fire  from  the  Jasper  B.  had 
checked  the  assault  temporarily;  it  had  not  broken 
it  up;  once  they  found  lodgment  on  the  deck  the 
superior  numbers  of  Loge's  crowd  must  inevitably 
tell. 

Loge  was  a  dozen  feet  in  advance  of  his  men.  He 
had  cast  aside  the  light  sword  which  belonged  to 
Cleggett,  and  now  swung  a  grim  machete  in  his 
hand.  Cleggett  flung  down  his  gun,  grasped  a  cut- 

201 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

lass,  and  sprang  forward,  his  one  idea  to  come  to 
close  quarters  with  that  gigantic  figure  of  rage  and 
power. 

But  before  Loge  reached  the  bulwark  on  one  side, 
and  while  Cleggett  was  bounding  towards  him  on 
the  other,  this  on-coming  group  of  Cleggett's  foes 
were  suddenly  smitten  in  the  rear  as  if  by  a  thunder 
bolt.  Out  of  the  night  and  storm,  mad  with  terror, 
screaming  like  fiends,  with  distended  nostrils  and 
flying  manes  and  flailing  hoofs,  there  plunged  into 
the  midst  of  the  assaulting  party  a  pair  of  snow- 
white  horses — astounding,  felling,  trampling,  scat 
tering,  filling  them  with  confusion.  A  rocking 
carriage  leaped  and  bounded  behind  the  furious  ani 
mals,  and  as  the  horses  struck  the  bulwark  and 
swerved  aside,  its  weight  and  bulk,  hurcd  like  a 
missile  among  Cleggett's  staggered  and  struggling 
enemies,  completed  and  confirmed  their  panic. 

No  troops  on  earth  can  stand  the  shock  of  a  cav 
alry  charge  in  the  rear  and  flank;  few  can  face 
surprise;  the  boarding  party,  convinced  that  they 
had  fallen  into  a  trap,  melted  away.  One  moment 
they  were  sweeping  forward,  vicious  and  formid 
able,  confident  of  victory;  the  next  they  were 
floundering  weaponless,  scrambling  anyhow  for 

202 


Miss  Pringle  Calls  on  Mr.  Cleggett 

safety,  multiplying  and  transforming,  with  the  quick 
imagination  of  panic  terror,  these  two  horses  into 
a  troop  of  mounted  men. 

This  sudden  and  almost  spectral  apparition  of 
galloping  steeds  and  flying  carriage,  hurled  upon  the 
vessel  out  of  the  tempest,  flung,  a  piece  of  whirling 
chaos,  from  the  chaotic  skies,  had  almost  as  start 
ling  an  effect  upon  the  defenders.  For  a  moment 
they  paused,  with  weapons  uplifted,  and  stared. 
Where  an  enemy  had  been,  there  was  nothing.  So 
doubtful  Greeks  or  Trojans  might  have  paused  and 
stared  upon  the  plains  by  Ilion  when  some  splenetic 
and  fickle  deity  burst  unannounced  and  overwhelm 
ing  into  the  central  clamor  of  the  battle. 

But  it  is  in  these  seconds  of  pause  and  doubt  that 
great  commanders  assert  themselves;  it  is  these 
electric  seconds  from  which  the  hero  gathers  his 
vital  lightning  and  forges  his  mordant  bolt.  Genius 
claims  and  rules  these  instants,  and  the  gods  are  on 
the  side  of  those  who  boldly  grasp  loose  wisdom 
and  bind  it  into  sheaves  of  judgment.  Cleggett 
(whom  Homer  would  have  loved)  was  the  first  to 
recover  his  poise.  He  came  to  his  decision  in 
stantaneously.  A  lesser  man  might  have  lost  all  by 
rushing  after  his  retreating  enemies;  a  lesser  man, 

203 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

carried  away  by  excitement,  would  have  pursued. 
Cleggett  did  not  relax  his  grasp  upon  the  situation, 
he  restrained  his  ardor. 

"Stand  firm,  men!  Do  not  leave  the  ship,"  he 
shouted.  "The  day  is  ours !" 

And  then,  turning  to  Captain  Abernethy,  he  cried : 

"We  have  routed  them !" 

"Look  at  them  crazy  horses!"  screamed  the  Cap 
tain  in  reply. 

The  animals  were  rearing  and  struggling  among 
the  ruins  of  the  broken  gangplank.  As  the  Cap 
tain  spoke,  they  plunged  aboard  the  ship,  and  the 
carriage,  bounding  after  them,  overturned  on  the 
deck — horses  and  carriage  came  down  together  in  a 
welter  of  splintering  wheels  and  broken  harness  and 
crashing  wood. 

A  negro  driver,  whom  Cleggett  now  noticed  for 
the  first  time,  shot  clear  of  the  mass  and  landed  on 
the  deck  in  a  sitting  posture. 

For  a  moment,  there  he  sat,  and  did  nothing  more. 
The  pole  broke  loose  from  the  carriage,  the  traces 
parted,  and  the  two  big  white  horses,  still  kicking 
and  plunging,  struggled  to  their  feet  and  free  from 
the  wreckage.  Still  side  by  side  they  leaped  the 
port  bulwark,  splashed  into  the  canal,  and  swam 

204 


Miss  Pringle  Calls  on  Mr.  Cleggett 

straight  across  it,  as  if  animated  with  the  instinct 
of  going  straight  ahead  in  that  fashion  to  the  end 
of  the  world.  Cleggett  never  saw  or  heard  of  them 
again. 

"Bring  a  lantern,"  said  Cleggett  to  Abernethy. 
"Let's  see  if  this  man  is  badly  hurt." 

But  the  negro  was  not  injured.  He  rose  to  his 
feet  as  the  Captain  brought  the  light — the  storm 
was  now  subsiding,  and  the  lightning  was  less  fre 
quent — and  stood  revealed  as  a  person  of  surpris 
ing  size  and  unusual  blackness.  He  was,  in  fact, 
so  black  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  Cleggett  had 
not  seen  him  on  the  seat  of  the  carriage,  for  unless 
one  turned  a  light  full  upon  him  his  face  could  not 
be  seen  at  all  after  dark.  He  was  in  a  blue  livery, 
and  his  high,  cockaded  coachman's  hat  had  stayed 
on  his  head  in  spite  of  everything. 

Even  sitting  down  on  the  deck  he  had  possessed 
an  air  of  patience.  When  he  arose  and  the  Captain 
flashed  the  light  upon  his  face,  it  revealed  a  counte 
nance  full  of  dignified  good  humor. 

"Where  did  you  come  from  ?"  asked  Cleggett. 

The  negro  removed  the  hat  with  the  cockade 
before  answering.  He  did  it  politely.  Even 
ceremoniously.  But  he  did  not  do  it  hastily.  He 

205 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

had  the  air  of  one  who  was  never  inclined  to  do 
things  hastily. 

"From  Newahk,  sah,"  he  said.  "Newahk,  New 
Jehsey,  sah." 

"But  who  are  you?"  said  Cleggett.  "How  did 
you  get  here?" 

The  negro  was  gazing  reflectively  at  the  broken 
carriage. 

"Ah  yo'  Mistah  Cleggett,  sah  ?  Mistah  Clement 
J.  Cleggett,  sah,  the  ownah  of  dis  hyeah  boat?" 

"Yes." 

The  negro  fumbled  in  an  inner  pocket  and  pro 
duced  a  card.  He  gave  it  to  Cleggett  with  a 
deferential  bow,  and  then  announced  sonorously: 

"Miss  Genevieve  Pringle,  sah — in  de  cah'age, 
sah — a  callin'  on  Mistah  Clement  J.  Cleggett." 

He  completed  the  announcement  with  a  dignified 
and  courtly  gesture,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
he  was  presenting  the  ruined  carriage  itself  to 
Cleggett. 

"You  don't  mean  in  that  carriage?"  cried  Cleg 
gett. 

"Yes,  sah,"  said  the  negro.  "Leas' ways,  she 
was,  sah,  some  time  back.  Mah  time  an'  mah 
'tention  done  been  so  tooken  up  wif  dem  incom- 

206 


Miss  Pringle  Calls  on  Mr.  Cleggett 

patible  bosses  fo'  some  moments  past,  sah,  dat  I 
cain't  say  fo'  suah  ef  she  adheahed,  or  ef  she  didn't 
adheah." 

He  glanced  speculatively  at  the  carriage  again. 
Cleggett  sprang  towards  the  broken  vehicle,  expect 
ing  to  find  someone  seriously  injured  at  the  very 
least.  But,  from  the  ruin,  a  precise  and  high-pitched 
feminine  voice  piped  out : 

"Jefferson !  Kindly  assist  me  to  disentangle  my 
self!" 

"Yassum,"  said  the  negro,  moving  forward  in  a 
leisurely  and  dignified  manner,  "comin',  ma'am.  I 
hopes  an'  trusts,  Miss  Pringle,  ma'am,  yo'  ain't 
suffered  none  in  yo'  anatomy  an'  phlebotomy  from 
dis  hyeah  runaway." 

With  which  cheerful  wish  Jefferson  lifted  re 
spectfully,  and  with  a  certain  calm  detachment,  the 
figure  of  a  woman  from  the  debris. 

"Thank  you,  Jefferson,"  she  said.  "I  fear  I  am 
very  much  bruised  and  shaken,  but  I  have  been  feel 
ing  all  my  bones  while  lying  there,  and  I  believe  that 
I  have  sustained  no  fractures." 

Miss  Pringle  was  a  woman  of  about  fifty,  small 
and  prim.  Prim  with  an  unconquerable  primness 
that  neither  storm  nor  battle  nor  accident  could 

207 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

shake.  If  she  had  been  killed  in  the  runaway  she 
would  have  looked  prim  in  death  while  awaiting 
the  undertaker.  She  must  have  been  wet  almost 
to  those  unfractured  bones  which  she  had  been  feel 
ing;  her  black  silk  dress,  with  its  white  ruching 
about  the  neck,  was  torn  and  bedraggled ;  her  black 
hat,  with  its  jet  ornaments,  was  crushed  and  hung 
askew  over  one  ear ;  nevertheless,  Miss  Pringle  con 
veyed  at  once  and  definitely  an  impression  of  un 
assailable  respectability  and  strong  character. 

"Which  of  you  is  Mr.  Cleggett?"  she  asked,  look 
ing  about  her,  in  the  lantern  light,  at  the  crew  of 
the  Jasper  B.,  as  she  leaned  upon  the  arm  of  Jeffer 
son,  her  mannerly  and  deliberate  servitor. 

"I  am  Mr.  Cleggett." 

"Ah!"  Miss  Pringle  inspected  him  with  an  eye 
which  gleamed  with  a  hint  of  latent  possibilities  of 
belligerency.  "Mr.  Cleggett,"  she  continued,  purs 
ing  her  lips,  "I  have  sought  an  interview  to  warn 
you  that  you  are  harboring  an  impostor  on  your 
ship." 

At  that  moment  Lady  Agatha  joined  the  group. 
As  the  light  fell  upon  her  Miss  Pringle  stepped  for 
ward  and  thrust  an  accusing,  a  denunciatory  finger 
at  the  Englishwoman. 

208 


Miss  Pringle  Calls  on  Mr.  Cleggett 

"You,"  she  said,  "call  yourself  Lady  Agatha 
Fairhaven !" 

"I  do,"  said  Lady  Agatha. 

"Woman!"  cried  Miss  Pringle,  shaking  with  the 
stress  of  her  moral  wrath.  "Where  are  my  plum 
preserves  ?" 

And  with  this  cryptic  utterance  the  little  lady, 
having  come  to  the  end  of  her  strength,  primly 
fainted. 

Jefferson  picked  her  up  and  carried  her,  in  a 
serene  and  stately  manner,  to  the  cabin. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 
THE  MAN  IN  THE  BLUE  PAJAMAS 

THE  rain  had  ceased  almost  as  Miss  Pringle 
was  removed  to  the  cabin.     The  storm 
had  passed.     Low  down  on  the  edges 
of  the  world  there  were  still  a  few  dark  clouds, 
there   was   still   an    occasional   glimmer   of   light 
ning;   but   overhead   the  mists   were   fleecy,    light 
and  broken.     A  few  stars  were  visible  here  and 
there. 

And  then  in  a  moment  more  a  full  moon  rose 
high  and  serene  above  the  world.  The  May  moon 
is  often  very  brilliant  in  these  latitudes,  as  sailors 
who  are  familiar  with  the  coasts  of  Long  Island 
can  testify.  This  moon  was  unusually  brilliant, 
even  for  the  season  of  the  year  and  the  quarter  of 
the  globe.  It  lighted  up  earth  and  sky  so  that  it 
was  (in  the  familiar  phrase)  almost  possible  to  read 
by  it.  Only  a  few  moments  had  elapsed  since  the 
rout  of  Logan  Black's  ruffians,  but  in  the  vicinity  of 
this  remarkable  island  such  sudden  meteorological 

210 


The  Man  in  the  Blue  Pajamas 

changes  are  anything  but  rare,  geographers  and 
travelers  know. 

Lady  Agatha  had  gone  into  the  cabin  to  re 
suscitate  Miss  Pringle  and,  as  she  said,  "have  it  out 
with  her."  Cleggett,  gazing  from  the  deck  towards 
Morris's,  in  the  strong  moonlight,  wondered  when 
the  attack  would  be  renewed.  He  thought,  on  the 
whole,  that  it  was  improbable  that  Loge  would  re 
turn  to  the  assault  while  this  brightness  continued. 

Suddenly  three  figures  appeared  within  his  range 
of  vision.  They  were  running.  But  running  slowly, 
painfully,  lamely.  In  the  lead  were  the  two  men 
whom  he  had  first  seen  hazed  up  and  down  the  bank 
of  the  canal  by  Wilton  Barnstable,  and  whom  he 
had  seen  the  second  time  chained  in  the  great 
detective's  boat. 

They  were  shackled  wrist  to  wrist  now.  To  the 
left  leg  of  one  of  them  was  attached  a  heavy  ball. 
A  similar  ball  was  attached  to  the  right  leg  of  the 
other.  They  had  picked  these  balls  up  and  were 
struggling  along  under  their  weight  at  a  gait  which 
was  more  like  a  staggering  walk  than  a  trot. 

They  were  pursued  by  the  man  whom  Cleggett 
had  seen  attempt  to  escape  from  Morris's.  This 
man  still  wore  his  suit  of  baby  blue  silk  pajamas. 

211 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

He  wore  nothing  else.  He  was  stiff.  He  moved  as 
if  the  ground  hurt  his  bare  feet. 

He  especially  favored,  as  Cleggett  noticed,  the 
foot  on  which  there  was  a  bunion.  He  was  lame. 
He  crept  rather  than  ran.  But  he  seemed  bitterly 
intent  upon  reaching  the  two  men  in  irons  who 
labored  along  twenty  or  thirty  feet  ahead  of  him. 
And  they,  on  their  part,  seemed  to  move  in  con 
vulsive  paroxysms  of  fear,  casting  now  and  then 
backward  glances  over  their  shoulders  at  their 
pursuer. 

Cleggett  divined  that  the  men  in  irons  had  es 
caped  from  the  Annabel  Lee,  and  that  the  man  in 
the  baby  blue  pajamas  was  loose  from  Morris's. 
But  why  the  man  in  the  pajamas  pursued  and  the 
others  fled  he  could  not  guess. 

They  passed  within  fifty  yards  of  the  Jasper  B. 
But  the  men  in  irons  were  so  intent  upon  their 
own  troubles,  and  the  pursuer  was  so  keen  on  ven 
geance,  that  none  of  them  noticed  the  vessel.  As 
they  limped  along,  splashing  through  the  pools  the 
rain  had  left,  the  pursuer  would  occasionally  pause 
to  fling  stones  and  sticks  and  even  cakes  of  mud 
at  the  fugitives,  who  were  whimpering  as  they  tot 
tered  forward. 

212 


The  Man  in  the  Blue  Pajamas 

The  man  in  the  baby  blue  pajamas  was  cursing 
in  a  high-pitched,  nasal,  querulous  voice.  Cleggett 
noticed  with  astonishment  that  a  single-barreled 
eyeglass  was  screwed  into  one  of  his  eyes.  Oc 
casionally  it  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  he  would 
stop  and  fumble  for  it  and  wipe  it  on  his  wet  sleeve 
and  replace  it.  Had  it  not  been  for  these  stops 
he  would  have  overtaken  the  men  in  irons. 

"Clement!"  Lady  Agatha  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
arm.  "Miss  Pringle  wants  to  see  you  in  the  cabin." 

"Well— impostor !"  laughed  Cleggett.  "Is  she 
able  to  talk  to  you  yet  ?  And  what  on  earth  did  she 
mean  by  her  plum  preserves?" 

"That  is  what  she  wants  to  tell,  evidently,"  said 
Lady  Agatha.  And  she  went  aft  with  him. 

Miss  Pringle,  who  had  been  rubbed  dry  by  Lady 
Agatha,  and  was  now  dressed  in  some  articles  of 
that  lady's  clothing,  which  were  much  too  large  for 
her,  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  in  Lady  Agatha's 
stateroom  and  awaited  them.  Her  appearance  was 
scarcely  conventional,  and  she  seemed  to  feel  it; 
nevertheless,  she  had  a  duty  to  perform,  and  her 
innate  propriety  still  triumphed  over  her  situation 
and  habiliments. 

"Mr.  Cleggett,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  box 
213 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

which  contained  the  evidence  against  Logan  Black, 
which  was  exactly  similar  to  the  box  of  Reginald 
Maltravers,  and  which  had  been  placed  in  this  inner 
room  for  safe-keeping,  "what  does  that  box  con 
tain?" 

Cleggett  was  startled.  He  and  Lady  Agatha  ex 
changed  glances. 

"What  do  you  think  it  contains?"  he  asked. 

"That  box,"  she  said,  "was  shipped  to  me  from 
Flatbush,  and  was  claimed  in  my  name — in  the 
name  of  Genevieve  Pringle — at  the  freight  depot 
at  Newark,  New  Jersey,  by  this  lady  here.  Deny 
it  if  you  can !" 

"I  do  deny  it,  Miss  Pringle,"  said  Lady  Agatha, 
accompanying  her  words  with  a  winsome  smile. 
But  Miss  Pringle  was  not  to  be  won  over  so  easily 
as  all  that ;  she  met  the  smile  with  a  look  of  steady 
reprobation.  And  then  she  turned  to  Cleggett  again. 

"Mr.  Cleggett,"  she  said,  "my  birthday  occurred 
a  few  days  ago.  It  was — I  have  nothing  to  conceal, 
Mr.  Cleggett — it  was  my  forty-ninth  birthday. 
Every  year,  for  many  years  past,  a  niece  of  mine 
who  lives  in  Flatbush  sends  me  on  my  birthday 
a  box  of  plum  preserves. 

"These  preserves  have  for  me,  Mr.  Cleggett,  a 
214 


The  Man  in  the  Blue  Pajamas 

value  that  they  would  not  possess  for  anyone  else; 
a  value  far  above  their  intrinsic  or,  as  one  might 
say,  culinary  value.  They  have  a  sentimental  value 
as  well.  I  was  born  in  Flatbush,  and  lived  there, 
during  my  youth,  on  my  father's  estate.  The  city 
has  since  grown  around  the  old  place,  which  my 
niece  now  owns,  but  the  plum  trees  stand  as  they 
have  stood  for  more  than  fifty  years.  It  was  be 
neath  these  plum  trees.  .  .  ." 

Miss  Pringle  suddenly  broke  off;  her  face 
twitched;  she  felt  for  a  handkerchief,  and  found 
none ;  she  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  sleeve.  In  another 
person  this  action  might  have  appeared  somewhat 
careless,  but  Miss  Pringle,  by  the  force  of  her  char 
acter,  managed  to  invest  it  with  propriety  and  dig 
nity;  looking  at  her,  one  felt  that  to  wipe  one's 
eyes  on  one's  sleeve  was  quite  proper  when  done  by 
the  proper  person. 

"I  will  conceal  nothing,  Mr.  Cleggett.  It  was 
under  these  plum  trees  that  I  once  received  an  offer 
of  marriage  from  a  worthy  young  man.  It  was 
from  one  of  these  plum  trees  that  he  later  fell,  in 
juring  himself  so  that  he  died.  You  can  under 
stand  what  these  plum  trees  mean  to  me,  perhaps?" 

Lady  Agatha  impulsively  sat  down  beside  the 
215 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

elder  woman  and  put  her  arm  about  her.  But  Miss 
Pr ingle  stiffly  moved  away.  After  a  moment  she 
continued : 

"The  preserved  plums,  as  I  have  said,  are  sent 
me  every  year  on  my  birthday.  This  year,  when 
I  received  from  my  niece  a  notification  that  they 
had  been  shipped,  I  called  for  the  box  personally 
at  the  freight  office. 

"What  was  my  astonishment  to  learn  that  the  box 
had  been  claimed  in  my  name,  not  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before,  and  taken  away. 

"I  obtained  a  description  of  the  person  who  had 
represented  herself  as  Miss  Genevieve  Pringle,  and 
of  the  vehicle  in  which  she  had  carried  off  my  box. 
And  I  followed  her.  The  paltriness  of  the  theft 
revolted  me,  Mr.  Cleggett,  and  I  determined  to  bring 
this  person  to  justice. 

"The  fugitive,  with  my  plum  preserves  in  her 
possession,  had  left,  goodness  knows,  a  broad 
enough  trail.  I  found  but  little  difficulty  in  follow 
ing  in  my  family  carriage.  In  fact,  Mr.  Cleg 
gett,  I  discovered  the  very  chauffeur  who  had 
deposited  her  here  with  the  box.  Inquiries  in  Fair- 
port  gave  me  your  name  as  the  owner  of  this 
lighter." 

016 


The  Man  in  the  Blue  Pajamas 

"Lighter !"  interrupted  Cleggett.  'The  Jasper  B., 
madam,  is  not  a  lighter." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Miss  Pringle.  "But 
what  sort  of  vessel  is  it  then?" 

"The  Jasper  B.,"  said  Cleggett,  with  a  touch  of 
asperity,  "is  a  schooner,  madam." 

"I  intended  no  offense,  Mr.  Cleggett.  I  am  quite 
willing  to  believe  that  the  vessel  in  a  schooner,  since 
you  say  that  it  is.  I  am  not  informed  concerning 
nautical  affairs.  But,  to  conclude — I  discovered 
from  the  chauffeur  that  this  lady,  calling  herself 
Lady  Agatha  Fairhaven,  had  been  deposited  here, 
with  my  box.  I  learned  yesterday,  after  inquiries 
in  Fairport,  that  you  were  the  owner  of  this  vessel. 
The  real  estate  person  from  whom  you  purchased 
it  assured  me  that  you  were  financially  responsible. 
I  came  to  expose  this  impostor  and  to  recover  my 
box.  On  my  way  hither  I  was  caught  in  the  storm. 
The  runaway  occurred,  and  you  know  the  rest." 

Miss  Pringle,  during  this  recital,  had  not  deigned 
to  favor  Lady  Agatha  with  a  look.  Lady  Agatha, 
on  her  part,  after  the  rebuff  which  she  had  received, 
had  sat  in  smiling  silence. 

"Miss  Pringle,"  she  said,  pleasantly  but  seriously, 
when  the  other  woman  had  finished,  "first  I  must 

217 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

convince  you  that  this  box  does  not  contain  your 
plum  preserves,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  my 
story." 

With  Cleggett's  assistance  Lady  Agatha  removed 
the  cover  from  the  oblong  box,  and  showed  her  its 
contents. 

''That  explains  nothing,"  said  Miss  Pringle, 
dryly.  "Of  course  you  would  remove  the  plum  pre 
serves  to  a  place  of  safety." 

"Miss  Pringle,"  said  Lady  Agatha,  "I  will  tell 
you  everything.  I  did  claim  a  box  in  your  name  at 
the  railway  goods  station  in  Newark — and  if  there 
had  been  nothing*  in  it  but  plum  preserves,  how 
ha«ppy  I  should  be !  I  beg  of  you,  Miss  Pringle,  to 
give  me  your  attention." 

And  Lady  Agatha  began  to  relate  to  Miss  Pringle 
the  same  story  which  she  had  told  to  Cleggett.  At 
the  first  word  indicative  of  the  fact  that  Lady 
Agatha  had  suffered  for  the  cause  of  votes  for 
women,  a  change  took  place  in  the  expression  of 
Miss  Pringle's  countenance.  Cleggett  thought  she 
was  about  to  speak.  But  she  did  not.  Nevertheless, 
although  she  listened  intently,  some  of  her  rigidity 
had  gone.  When  Lady  Agatha  had  finished  Miss 
Pringle  said: 

218 


The  Man  in  the  Blue  Pajamas 

"I  suppose  that  you  can  prove  that  you  are  really 
Lady  Agatha  Fairhaven?" 

For  answer  Lady  Agatha  went  to  one  of  her 
trunks  and  opened  it.  She  drew  therefrom  a  letter, 
and  passed  it  over  without  a  word. 

As  Miss  Pringle  read  it,  her  face  lighted  up.  She 
did  not  lose  her  primness,  but  her  suspicion  seemed 
altogether  to  depart. 

"A  letter  from  Emmeline  Pankhurst!"  she 
said,  in  a  hushed  voice,  handling  the  missive  as  if 
it  were  a  sacred  relic.  "Can  you  ever  forgive 
me?" 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  beamed  Lady 
Agatha.  "I  am  willing  to  admit,  now  that  you  un 
derstand  me,  that  the  thing  looked  a  bit  suspicious, 
on  the  face  of  it." 

"You  have  suffered  for  the  cause,"  said  Miss 
Pringle.  "I  have  suffered  for  it,  too !"  And,  with 
a  certain  shyness,  she  patted  Lady  Agatha  on  the 
arm.  But  the  next  moment  she  said: 

"But  what  is  in  the  box  you  brought  here  then, 
Lady  Agatha?  Two  boxes  were  shipped  to  New 
ark,  addressed  to  me.  Which  one  did  you  get? 
What  is  really  in  the  one  you  have  been  carrying 

around  ?     My  plum  preserves,  or " 

219 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

She  shuddered  and  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"Let  us  open  it,"  said  Cleggett. 

"No!  No!"  cried  Lady  Agatha.  "Clement,  no! 
I  could  not  bear  to  have  it  opened." 

Miss  Pringle  rose.  It  was  evident  that  a  bit  of 
her  earlier  suspicion  had  returned. 

"After  all,"  said  Miss  Pringle,  indicating  the  let 
ter  again,  "how  do  I  know  that " 

"That  it  is  not  a  forgery?"  said  Lady  Agatha. 
"I  see."  She  mused  a  moment,  and  then  said,  with 
a  sigh,  "Well,  then,  let  us  open  the  box !" 

"I  think  it  best,  Agatha,"  said  Cleggett.  "I 
shall  have  it  brought  down." 

But  even  as  he  turned  upon  his  heel  to  go  on  deck 
and  give  the  order,  Dr.  Farnsworth  and  the  Rev. 
Simeon  Calthrop  ran  excitedly  down  the  cabin  com- 
panionway. 

"The  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers,"  cried  the 
Doctor,  who  was  in  Cleggett's  confidence,  "is  gone !" 


CHAPTER    XIX 
TWO  GREAT  MEN  MEET 

GONE!''  Lady  Agatha,  who  had  emerged 
from  her  stateroom,  turned  pale  and 
caught  at  her  heart. 

They  rushed  on  deck.  The  young  Doctor  was 
right ;  the  box,  which  had  stood  on  the  larboard  side 
of  the  cabin,  had  disappeared. 

"It  might  have  been  blown  into  the  canal  during 
the  storm,"  suggested  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop.  All 
of  the  crew  of  the  Jasper  B.  knew  Lady  Agatha's 
story,  and  were  aware  of  the  importance  of  the  box. 

"It  was  on  the  lee  side  of  the  cabin,"  objected 
Dr.  Farnsworth,  "and  while  it  might  have  been 
blown  flat  to  the  deck,  in  spite  of  its  protected  posi 
tion,  it  would  scarcely  have  been  picked  up  by  the 
wind  again  and  wafted  over  the  port  bulwarks." 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me,"  said  Cap'n  Abernethy, 
who  had  joined  in  the  discussion,  "I'd  give  it  as  my 
opinion  it's  a  good  riddance  of  bad  rubbish." 

"Rubbish?"   said  Miss  Pringle.     "Rubbish,   in- 

221 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

deed!  I  am  confident  that  that  box  contained  my 
plum  preserves!" 

"It  has  been  stolen !"  cried  Cleggett,  with  convic 
tion.  "Fool  that  I  was,  not  to  have  taken  it  into  the 
cabin!" 

"But,  if  you  had,  you  know,"  said  Lady  Agatha, 
"one  would  scarcely  have  cared  to  stay  in  there  with 
it." 

"Loge  has  outgeneraled  me,"  murmured  Cleggett, 
well-nigh  frantic  with  self-reproach.  "While  he 
made  the  attack  in  front,  he  sent  some  of  his  men  to 
the  rear  of  the  vessel  and  it  was  quietly  made  off 
with  while  we  were  righting."  Had  the  disappear 
ance  of  the  box  concerned  himself  alone  Cleggett's 
sense  of  disaster  might  have  been  less  poign 
ant.  But  the  thought  that  his  own  carelessness 
had  enabled  the  enemy  to  get  possession  of  a 
thing  likely  to  involve  Lady  Agatha  in  further 
trouble  was  nearly  insupportable.  He  gritted 
his  teeth  and  clenched  his  hands  in  impotent 
rage. 

"No  doubt  Loge  caught  sight  of  it  during  the 
early  part  of  the  skirmish,  by  a  flash  of  lightning," 
said  Dr.  Farnsworth,  "and  acted  as  you  suggest,  Mr. 
Cleggett.  But  does  he  believe  it  to  be  the  box  which 

222 


Two  Great  Men  Meet 


contains  the  evidence  against  him?  Or  can  he,  by 
any  chance,  be  aware  of  its  real  contents?'' 

"No  matter  which,"  groaned  Cleggett,  "no  mat 
ter  which !  For  when  he  opens  it,  he  will  learn  what 
is  in  it.  Don't  you  see  that  he  has  us  now?  If  he 
offers  to  trade  it  back  to  us  for  the  other  oblong 
box,  how  can  I  refuse?  If  we  have  his  secret,  Loge 
has  ours !" 

But  Dr.  Farnsworth  was  not  listening.  He  had 
suddenly  leaned  over  the  port  rail  and  was  staring 
down  the  canal.  The  others  followed  his  gaze. 

The  house  boat  Annabel  Lee,  they  perceived,  had 
got  under  weigh,  and  was  slowly  approaching  the 
Jasper  B.  in  the  moonlight.  They  watched  her 
gradual  approach  in  silence.  She  stopped  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  Jasper  B.,  and  a  voice  which  Cleg 
gett  recognized  as  that  of  Wilton  Barnstable,  the 
great  detective,  sang  out : 

(( Jasper  B.f  ahoy !" 

"Aye,  aye !"  shouted  Cleggett. 

"Is  Mr.  Cleggett  on  board?" 

"He  is  speaking." 

"Mr.  Cleggett,  have  you  lost  anything  from  your 
canal  boat?" 

Cleggett  did  not  answer,  and  for  a  moment  he 
223 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

did  not  move.  Then,  tightening  his  sword  belt,  and 
cocking  his  hat  a  trifle,  he  climbed  over  the  star 
board  rail  and  walked  along  the  bank  of  the  canal 
a  few  yards  until  he  was  opposite  the  Annabel  Lee. 
The  great  detective,  on  his  part,  also  stepped  ashore. 
They  stood  and  faced  each  other  in  the  moonlight, 
silently,  and  their  followers,  also  in  silence,  gathered 
in  the  bows  of  their  respective  vessels  and  watched 
them. 

Finally,  Cleggett,  with  one  hand  on  his  hip,  and 
standing  with  his  feet  wide  apart,  said  very  in 
cisively  : 

"Sir,  the  Jasper  B.  is  not  a  canal  boat." 

"Eh?"  Wilton  Barnstable  started  at  the  emphasis. 

"The  Jasper  B,"  pursued  Cleggett,  staring  stead 
ily  at  Wilton  Barnstable,  "is  a  schooner." 

"Ah!"  said  the  other.     "Indeed?" 

"A  schooner,"  repeated  Cleggett,  "indeed,  sir! 
Indeed,  sir,  a  schooner!" 

There  was  another  silence,  in  which  neither  man 
would  look  aside;  they  held  each  other  with  their 
eyes;  the  nervous  strain  communicated  itself  to  the 
crews  of  the  two  vessels.  At  last,  however,  the 
detective,  although  he  did  not  lower  his  gaze,  and 
although  he  strove  to  give  his  new  attitude  an  effect 

224 


Two  Great  Men  Meet 


of  ease  and  jauntiness  by  twisting  the  end  of  his 
mustache  as  he  spoke,  said  to  Cleggett: 

"A  schooner,  then,  Mr.  Cleggett,  a  schooner !  No 
offense,  I  hope?" 

"None  at  all,"  said  Cleggett,  heartily  enough, 
now  that  the  point  had  been  established.  And  the 
tension  relaxed  on  both  ships. 

"You  have  lost  an  oblong  box,  Mr.  Cleggett." 
The  great  detective  affirmed  it  rather  than  interro 
gated. 

"How  did  you  know  that  ?" 

The  other  laughed.  "We  know  a  great  many 
things — it  is  our  business  to  know  things,"  he  said. 
Then  he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  said 
rapidly,  "Mr.  Cleggett,  do  you  know  who  I  am?" 
Before  Cleggett  could  reply  he  continued,  "Brace 
yourself — do  not  make  an  outcry  when  I  tell  you 
who  I  am.  I  am  Wilton  Barnstable." 

"I  knew  you,"  said  Cleggett.  The  other  appeared 
disappointed  for  a  moment.  And  then  he  inquired 
anxiously,  "How  did  you  know  me  ?" 

"Why,  from  your  pictures  in  the  magazines,"  said 
Cleggett. 

The  detective  brightened  perceptibly.  "Ah,  yes — 
the  magazines !  Yes,  yes,  indeed !  Publicity  is  un- 

225 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

avoidable,  unavoidable,  Mr.  Cleggett!  But  this 
box,  now " 

The  great  detective  interrupted  himself  to  laugh 
again,  a  trifle  complacently,  Cleggett  thought. 

"I  will  not  mystify  you,  Mr.  Cleggett,  about  the 
box.  Mystification  is  one  of  the  tricks  of  the  older 
schools  of  detection.  I  never  practice  it,  Mr.  Cleg 
gett.  With  me,  the  detection  of  crime  is  a  busi 
ness — yes,  a  business.  I  will  tell  you  presently  how 
the  box  came  into  my  possession." 

"It  is  in  your  possession?"  Cleggett  felt  a  dull 
pang  of  the  heart.  If  the  box  of  Reginald  Mal- 
travers  were  in  the  hands  of  Logan  Black  he  could 
at  least  trade  the  other  oblong  box  to  Loge  for  it, 
and  thus  save  Lady  Agatha.  But  in  the  possession 

of  Wilton  Barnstable,  the  great  detective ! 

Cleggett  pulled  himself  together;  he  thought  rap 
idly;  he  recognized  that  the  situation  called,  above 
all  things  else,  for  diplomacy  and  adroitness.  He 
went  on,  nonchalantly: 

"I  suppose  you  are  aware  of  the  contents  of  the 
box?" 

The  other  laughed  again  as  if  Cleggett  had  made 
an  excellent  jest;  there  was  something  urbane  and 
benign  in  his  manner ;  it  appeared  as  if  he  regarded 

226 


Two  Great  Men  Meet 


the  contents  of  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers  as 
anything  but  serious ;  his  tone  puzzled  Cleggett. 

"Suppose  I  bring  the  box  on  board  the  Jasper  B." 
suggested  the  great  detective.  "It  interests  me,  that 
box.  I  have  no  doubt  it  has  its  story.  And  perhaps, 
while  you  are  telling  me  some  things  about  it,  I 
may  be  able  to  give  you  some  information  in  turn." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  fact  that  the  man, 
whether  genuinely  friendly  or  no,  wished  to  ap 
pear  so. 

"Have  it  brought  into  my  cabin,"  said  Cleggett, 
"and  we  will  discuss  it." 

A  few  minutes  later  Wilton  Barnstable,  Cleggett, 
Lady  Agatha,  Miss  Pringle,  and  two  of  Wilton 
Barnstable's  men  sat  in  the  cabin  of  the  Jasper  B., 
with  the  two  oblong  boxes  before  them — the  one 
which  had  contained  Loge's  incriminating  diary,  and 
the  one  which  had  caused  Lady  Agatha  so  much 
trouble. 

In  the  light  of  the  cabin  the  three  detectives  were 
revealed  as  startlingly  alike.  Barton  Ward  and 
Watson  Bard,  Barnstable's  two  assistants,  might,  in 
deed,  almost  have  been  taken  for  Barnstable  him 
self,  at  a  casual  glance.  In  height,  in  bulk,  in  dress, 
in  facial  expression,  they  seemed  Wilton  Barnstable 

227  % 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

all  over  again.  But,  looking  intently  at  the  three 
men,  Cleggett  began  to  perceive  a  difference  between 
the  real  Wilton  Barnstable  and  his  two  counterfeits. 
It  was  the  difference  between  the  face  which  is  in 
formed  of  genius,  and  the  countenance  which  is  in 
dicative  of  mere  talent. 

"Mr.  Cleggett/'  began  Wilton  Barnstable,  "as  I 
said  before,  I  will  make  no  attempt  to  mystify  you. 
I  was  a  witness  to  the  attack  upon  your  vessel. 
Mr.  Ward,  Mr.  Bard,  and  myself,  in  fact,  had 
determined  to  assist  you,  had  we  seen  that  the  com 
bat  was  going  against  you.  We  lay,  during  the 
struggle,  in  the  lee  of  your — your — er,  schooner ! — 
in  the  lee  of  your  schooner,  armed,  and  ready  to 
bear  a  hand.  We  have  our  own  little  matter  to 
settle  with  Logan  Black.  Why  Logan  Black  should 
desire  possession  of  this  particular  box,  I  am  un 
able  to  state.  Nevertheless,  at  the  moment  when 
he  was  leading  his  assault  upon  your  starboard  bow, 
two  of  his  men,  who  had  made  a  detour  to  the 
stern  of  your  vessel,  had  clambered  stealthily  aboard, 
and  were  quietly  pushing  the  box  over  the  side  into 
the  canal.  They  let  themselves  down  into  the  water, 
and  swam  towards  the  mouth  of  the  canal,  pushing 
it  ahead  of  them.  We  followed  in  our  rowboat, 

228 


Two  Great  Men  Meet 


Mr.  Ward,  Mr.  Bard,  and  myself,  at  a  discreet  dis 
tance.  We  let  them  push  the  box  as  far  south  as 
the  Annabel  Lee.  And  then " 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  smiled  reminiscently. 
Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard  also  smiled  remi 
niscently,  and  the  three  detectives  exchanged  crafty 
glances. 

'Then,  to  be  brief,  we  took  the  box  away  from 
them.  They  were  so  ill-advised  as  to  struggle. 
They  are  in  irons,  now,  on  board  the  Annabel 
Lee. 

"But  what  I  cannot  understand,  Mr.  Cleggett,  is 
why  these  men  should  risk  so  much  to  make  off  with 
an  empty  box." 

"An  empty  box !"  cried  Cleggett. 

"Empty !"  echoed  Lady  Agatha  and  Miss  Pringle, 
in  concert. 

The  detective  wrenched  the  cover  from  the  box  of 
Reginald  Maltravers. 

"Practically  empty,  at  any  rate,"  he  said. 

And,  indeed,  except  for  a  few  wads  of  wet  ex 
celsior,  there  was  nothing  in  the  box  of  Reginald 
Maltravers. 

"Where,  then,"  cried  Lady  Agatha,  "is  Reginald 
Maltravers?" 

229 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Where,  indeed,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  "is 
Reginald  Maltravers?" 

"Where,  then,"  cried  Miss  Pringle,  "are  my  plum 
preserves  ?" 

"Where,  indeed?"  repeated  Wilton  Barnstable. 
And  Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard,  although  they 
did  not  speak  aloud,  stroked  their  mustaches  and 
their  lips  formed  the  ejaculation,  "Where,  indeed?" 

"We  will  tell  you  everything,"  said  Cleggett. 
And  beginning  with  his  purchase  of  the  Jasper  B. 
he  recounted  rapidly,  but  with  sufficient  detail,  all 
the  facts  with  which  the  reader  is  already  familiar, 
weaving  into  his  story  the  tale  of  Lady  Agatha  and 
the  adventures  of  Miss  Pringle.  Wilton  Barnstable 
listened  attentively.  So  did  Barton  Ward  and  Wat 
son  Bard.  The  benign  smile  which  was  so  char 
acteristic  of  Wilton  Barnstable  never  left  the  three 
faces,  but  it  was  evident  to  Cleggett  that  these 
trained  intelligences  grasped  and  weighed  and  tick 
eted  every  detail. 

While  Cleggett  narrates,  and  Wilton  Barnstable 
and  his  men  listen,  a  word  to  the  reader  concerning 
this  great  detective. 


CHAPTER   XX 
THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE 

WILTON  BARNSTABLE  was  the  in 
ventor  of  a  new  school  of  detection 
of  crime.  The  system  came  in  with 
him,  and  it  may  go  out  with  him  for  lack  of  a  man 
of  his  genius  to  perpetuate  it.  He  insisted  that 
there  was  nothing  spectacular  or  romantic  in  the 
pursuit  of  the  criminal,  or,  at  least,  that  there  should 
be  nothing  of  the  sort.  And  he  was  especially  dis 
gusted  when  anyone  referred  to  him  as  "a  second 
Sherlock  Holmes." 

"I  am  only  a  plain  business  man,"  he  would  in 
sist,  urbanely,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "I  have 
merely  brought  order,  method,  system,  business 
principles,  logic,  to  the  detection  of  crime.  I  know 
nothing  of  romance.  Romance  is  usually  all  non 
sense  in  my  estimation.  The  real  detective,  who 
gets  results  in  real  life,  is  not  a  Sherlock  Holmes." 

The  enemies  of  Wilton  Barnstable  sometimes 
said  of  him  that  he  was  jealous  of  Sherlock 

231 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Holmes.  When  this  was  reported  to  Barnstable 
he  invariably  remarked :  "How  preposterous ! 
The  idea  of  a  man  being  envious  of  a  literary  crea 
tion!" 

Perhaps  his  denial  of  the  existence  of  romance 
was  merely  one  of  those  poses  which  geniuses  so 
often  permit  themselves.  Perhaps  he  saw  it  and 
was  thrilled  with  it  even  while  he  denied  it.  At  any 
rate,  he  lived  in  the  midst  of  it.  The  realism  which 
was  his  metier  was  that  sort  of  realism  into  which 
are  woven  facts  and  incidents  of  the  most  bizarre 
and  startling  nature. 

And,  certainly,  behind  the  light  blue  eyes  that 
could  look  with  such  apparent  ingenuousness  out  of 
his  plump,  bland  face  there  was  the  subtle  mind 
of  a  psychologist.  Barnstable,  true  to  his  attitude 
of  the  plain  business  man,  would  have  been  the 
first  to  ridicule  the  idea  publicly  if  anyone  had 
dubbed  him  "the  psychological  detective."  That,  to 
his  mind,  would  have  savored  of  charlatanism.  He 
would  have  said:  "I  am  nothing  so  strange  and 
mystifying  as  that — I  am  a  plain  business  man." 
But  in  reality  there  was  no  new  discovery  of  the 
investigating  psychologists  of  which  he  did  not  avail 
himself  at  once.  His  ability  to  clothe  himself  with 

232 


The  Psychological  Detective 


the  thoughts  of  the  criminal  as  an  actor  clothes 
himself  with  a  role,  was  marvelous;  he  knew  the 
criminal  soul.  That  is  to  say,  he  knew  the  human 
soul.  He  refused  to  see  anything  extraordinary  in 
this.  "It  is  only  my  business  to  know  such  things/' 
he  would  say.  "We  know  many  things.  It  is  our 
business  to  know  them.  There  is  no  miracle  about 
it."  This  was  the  public  character  he  had  created 
for  himself,  and  emphasized — that  of  the  plain  busi 
ness  man.  This  was  his  mask.  He  was  so  subtle 
that  he  hid  the  vast  range  of  his  powers  behind  an 
appearance  of  commonplaceness. 

Wilton  Barnstable  never  disguised  himself,  in 
the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term.  That  is,  he  never 
resorted  to  false  whiskers  or  wigs  or  obvious  tricks 
of  that  sort. 

But  if  Wilton  Barnstable  were  to  walk  into  a 
convention  of  blacksmiths,  let  us  say,  he  would 
quite  escape  attention.  For  before  he  had  been 
ten  minutes  in  that  gathering  he  would  become,  to 
all  appearances,  the  typical  blacksmith.  If  he  were 
to  enter  a  gathering  of  bankers,  or  barbers,  or 
bakers,  or  organ  grinders,  or  stockbrokers,  or 
school-teachers,  a  similar  thing  would  happen.  He 
could  make  himself  the  composite  photograph  of  all 

233 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  individuals  of  any  group.  He  disguised  him 
self  from  the  inside  out. 

This  art  of  becoming  inconspicuous  was  one  of 
his  greatest  assets  as  a  detective.  Newspaper  and 
magazine  writers  would  have  liked  to  dwell  upon 
it.  But  he  requested  them  not  to  emphasize  it.  As 
he  modestly  narrated  his  triumphs  to  the  young 
journalists  who  hung  breathless  upon  his  words,  he 
was  careful  not  to  stress  his  talent  for  becoming 
just  like  anybody  and  everybody  else — his  peculiar 
genius  for  being  the  average  man. 

The  front  which  he  presented  to  the  world  was,  in 
reality,  his  cleverest  creation.  The  magazine  and 
newspaper  articles  which  were  written  about  him, 
the  many  pictures  which  were  printed  every  month, 
presented  the  mental  and  physical  portrait  of  a 
knowing,  bustling,  extraordinarily  candid  personal 
ity.  A  personality  with  a  touch  of  smugness  in  it. 
This  was  very  generally  thought  to  be  the  real 
Wilton  Barnstable.  It  was  a  fiction  which  he  had 
succeeded  in  establishing.  When  he  addressed 
meetings,  talked  with  reporters,  wrote  articles  about 
himself,  or  came  into  touch  with  the  public  in  any 
manner,  he  assumed  this  personality.  When  he 
did  not  wish  to  be  known  he  laid  it  aside.  When 

234 


The  Psychological  Detective 


he  desired  to  pass  incognito,  therefore,  it  was  not 
necessary  for  him  to  assume  a  disguise.  He  simply 
dropped  one. 

The  two  men  with  him,  Barton  Ward  and  Wat 
son  Bard,  were  his  cleverest  agents.  They  were 
learning  from  the  master  detective  the  art  of  look 
ing  like  other  people,  and  were  at  present  practicing 
by  looking  like  the  popular  conception  of  Wilton 
Barnstable.  They  were  clever  men.  But  Barton 
Ward  and  Watson  Bard  were,  as  Cleggett  had  felt 
at  once,  only  men  of  extraordinary  talent,  while 
Wilton  Barnstable  was  a  genius. 

As  Cleggett  talked  he  was  given  a  rather  start 
ling  proof  of  Wilton  Barnstable's  gift.  He  was 
astonished  to  find  a  change  stealing  over  Wilton 
Barnstable's  features.  Subtly  the  detective  began 
to  look  like  someone  else.  The  expression  of  the 
face,  the  turn  of  the  eyes,  the  lines  about  the  mouth, 
began  to  suggest  someone  whom  Cleggett  knew. 
It  was  rather  a  suggestion,  an  impression,  than  a 
likeness;  it  was  rather  the  spirit  of  a  personality 
than  a  definite  resemblance.  It  was  a  psychic  thing. 
Barnstable  was  disguising  himself  from  the  inside 
out ;  he  had  assumed  the  mental  and  spiritual  cloth 
ing  of  someone  else. 

235 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett  could  not  think  at  first  who  it  was  that 
Wilton  Barnstable  suggested.  But  presently  he 
saw  that  it  was  himself.  He  glanced  at  Barton 
Ward  and  Watson  Bard;  they  still  resembled  the 
popular  conception  of  Wilton  Barnstable. 

Gradually  the  look  of  Cleggett  faded  from  Wilton 
Barnstable's  face.  It  changed,  it  shifted,  that  look 
did;  Cleggett  almost  cried  out  as  he  saw  the  face 
of  Wilton  Barnstable  become  an  impressionistic 
portrait  of  the  soul  of  Logan  Black.  He  looked  at 
Barton  Ward.  Barton  Ward  was  now  looking  like 
Wilton  Barnstable's  conception  of  Cleggett.  But 
Watson  Bard,  less  facile  and  less  creative,  still  clung 
stolidly  to  the  popular  conception  of  Wilton  Barn- 
stable. 

But,  even  as  Cleggett  looked,  this  remarkable 
exhibition  ceased;  the  Wilton  Barnstable  look 
dominated  the  faces  again.  Plump,  yet  dignified, 
smiling  easily  and  kindly,  three  plain  business  men 
looked  at  him;  respectable  citizens,  commonplace 
citizens,  a  little  smug;  faces  that  spoke  of  com 
fort,  method,  regularity;  eyes  that  seemed  to  wink 
with  the  pressure  of  platitudes  in  the  minds  behind 
them;  platitudes  that  desired  to  force  their  way  to 
the  lips  and  out  into  the  world. 

236 


The  Psychological  Detective 


Yes,  such  was  the  genius  of  Wilton  Barnstable 
that  he  could  at  will  impose  himself  upon  people 
as  the  apotheosis  of  the  commonplace.  He  did  it 
often.  It  was  almost  second  nature  to  him  now. 
His  urbane  smile  was  the  only  visible  sign  of  his 
own  enjoyment  of  this  habitual  feat.  He  knew  his 
own  genius,  and  smiled  to  think  how  easy  it  was 
to  pass  for  an  average  man! 


CHAPTER    XXI 
THE  THIRD  OBLONG  BOX  ARRIVES 

I  THINK,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  when  Cleg- 
gett  had  finished,  "that  I  may  be  able  to  clear 
up  a  few  points  for  you. 

"The  two  men  whom  you  saw  me  hazing  up  and 
down  the  bank  of  the  canal,  and  whom  you  saw 
again  tonight,  followed  by  the  man  in  the  baby  blue 
silk  pajamas,  were  Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the 
Cat!" 

"The  wretches !"  cried  Lady  Agatha. 

"Wretches  indeed,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  Bar 
ton  Ward,  and  Watson  Bard,  in  unison,  and  with 
conviction. 

"And  the  man  in  the  baby  blue  silk  pajamas, 

was "  the  great  detective  paused,  as  if  to  make 

his  revelation  more  effective.  And  while  he  paused, 
Miss  Genevieve  Pringle,  with  pursed  lips  and 
averted  face,  signified  that  the  very  idea  of  intro 
ducing  a  man  in  baby  blue  silk  pajamas  into  the  con 
versation  was  intensely  displeasing  to  her, 

238 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

"The  man  in  pajamas  was  Reginald  Maltravers," 
finished  the  great  detective. 

"Reginald  Maltravers !"  cried  Lady  Agatha. 

She  opened  her  mouth  again  as  if  to  say  some 
thing  more,  but  words  failed  her,  and  she  only 
stared  at  the  detective,  with  parted  lips  and  round 
eyes. 

Cleggett  went  to  her  and  touched  her  on  the  arm, 
and  with  the  touch  she  gave  a  sob  of  emotion  and 
found  her  tongue  again. 

"Reginald  Maltravers,"  she  said,  "is  not  dead 
then!  Not  dead  after  all!" 

She  endeavored  to  control  herself,  but  for  a 
moment  or  two  she  trembled.  It  was  evident  that 
it  was  all  she  could  do  to  keep  from  crying  hysteri 
cally  with  relief.  The  nightmare  that  had  haunted 
her  for  days  had  vanished  almost  too  suddenly. 
Presently  she  began  to  be  herself  again. 

"You  are  sure  that  he  is  not  dead  ?"  she  said  with 
a  voice  that  still  shook. 

"Sure,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable. 

And  as  if  quietly  satisfied  with  the  sensation  they 
had  produced,  the  three  detectives  smiled  at  each 
other  urbanely  and  contentedly.  Barnstable  con 
tinued  : 

239 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Reginald  Maltravers  came  to  my  agency  some 
days  ago  and  requested  a  bodyguard.  Dopey  Eddie 
and  Izzy  the  Cat  had  attacked  him,  no  doubt  intend 
ing  to  earn  the  money  which  Elmer  had  promised 
them.  He  beat  them  off.  In  fact,  he  caned  them 
soundly.  But  they  still  continued  to  dog  him. 

"Mr.  Ward  here,  who  handled  the  case,  soon  re 
ported  to  me  that  he  believed  Reginald  Maltravers  to 
be  insane." 

"Insane  he  was,"  cried  Lady  Agatha.  "I  have 
seen  the  light  of  insanity  in  his  eye,  gleaming 
through  his  accursed  monocle."  She  spoke  with 
vehemence.  Now  that  she  knew  the  man  to  be  alive, 
her  hatred  of  him  had  flared  up  again. 

"Insane  he  was,"  agreed  Wilton  Barnstable. 
"And  shortly  after  that  discovery  was  made,  he 
disappeared.  The  next  day  after  his  disappear 
ance,  Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the  Cat  were  liberally 
supplied  with  money. 

"Of  course  they  got  the  money,  Lady  Agatha, 
through  the  clever  trick  they  worked  upon  you." 

"A  great  many  people  have  got  money  from 
me  since  I  have  been  in  America,"  said  Lady 
Agatha. 

"Ah!  Yes?"  The  great  detective  went  on  with 
240 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

his  masterly  summing  up.  "Of  course  they  got  the 
money  from  the  trick  they  worked  on  Lady  Agatha. 
But  at  the  time  I  thought  it  possible  that  they  had 
robbed  Reginald  Maltravers  and  then  put  him  out 
of  the  way.  They  are  well-known  gunmen. 

"I  took  them  into  custody  and  determined  to 
hold  them  until  such  time  as  Reginald  Maltravers 
would  be  found,  or  his  fate  discovered.  Eventu 
ally  I  brought  them  with  me  on  my  house  boat. 
I  was  really  holding  them  without  due  legal  war 
rant,  but  I  am  forced  to  do  that,  sometimes.  They 
complained  of  lack  of  exercise,  so  I  gave  them 
exercise  in  the  manner  which  you  saw  the  other 
morning,  Mr.  Cleggett. 

"One  of  my  agents,  shortly  after  this,  picked  up 
the  trail  of  Reginald  Maltravers  again.  When  I 
learned  that  he  was  alive  my  first  impulse  was  to 
release  Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the  Cat.  But  I 
learned  that  the  two  gunmen  could,  if  they  would, 
give  me  a  tip  as  to  certain  of  the  activities  of 
Logan  Black,  against  whom  I  have  been  collecting 
evidence  for  nearly  a  year.  So  I  kept  them  on  my 
boat. 

"Reginald  Maltravers,  most  of  the  time  that  you 
were  riding  about  the  country,  Lady  Agatha,  with 

241 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  box  that  you  thought  contained  him,  was  really 
following  you.  He  would  lose  your  trail  and  find 
it  again,  but  he  was  always  some  hours  behind  you. 
Of  course,  he  knew  nothing  of  the  oblong  box.  He 
thought  that  you  were  running  away  from  him. 
And  all  the  time  that  Reginald  Maltravers  was  fol 
lowing  you,  agents  of  mine  were  following  Reginald 
Maltravers." 

"Lady  Agatha,"  interrupted  Cleggett,  "was  also 
being  pursued  by  Miss  Pringle  here." 

Wilton  Barnstable  carefully  made  a  note  in  a 
little  book  which  he  drew  from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 
Barton  Ward  also  made  a  note  in  a  little  book, 
Watson  Bard  started  to  make  a  note,  and  then 
paused;  in  fact,  Watson  Bard  did  not  complete  his 
note  until  he  had  gotten  a  peep  into  the  notebook 
of  Barton  Ward.  The  notes  made,  the  three  detec 
tives  once  more  smiled  craftily  at  each  other,  and 
Wilton  Barnstable  resumed : 

"We  knew,  of  course,  that  another  lady  was  also 
following  Lady  Agatha.  But,  until  the  present 
moment,  we  had  not  identified  her  with  Miss 
Pringle.  And  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised,  not 
at  all  surprised,  if  still  another  person  had  been 
following  Miss  Pringle." 

242 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

"With  what  object?"  asked  Miss  Pringle,  looking 
alarmed  at  the  idea. 

"The  motive,  my  dear  lady,  I  must  for  the  present 
withhold,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable.  And  again  the 
three  detectives  exchanged  knowing  glances. 

"Reginald  Maltravers'  pursuit  of  you,  Lady 
Agatha,  led-  him  to  Fairport,"  went  on  the  great 
sleuth.  "No  doubt  he  met  the  driver  of  the  vehicle 
which  brought  you  hither,  and  learned  that  you 
and  Elmer  had  been  set  down  in  this  neighborhood, 
just  as  Miss  Pringle  learned  it.  No  doubt  it  was 
well  after  dark  when  he  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Jasper  B.  And  it  is  to  to  be  supposed  that,  once 
out  here,  he  went  to  Morris's  road  house,  thinking 
it  quite  likely  that  you  and  Elmer  would  stop  there, 
as  he  had  been  tracking  you  from  road  house  to  road 
house.  Logan  Black,  knowing  that  the  authorities 
were  on  his  trail,  mistook  Reginald  Maltravers  for 
a  detective,  and  held  him  prisoner  at  Morris's. 
Logan  Black's  men  took  away  his  clothes  in  order 
to  minimize  the  possibility  of  his  escape." 

"And  the  Earl  of  Claiborne's  signet  ring "  be 
gan  Cleggett. 

"Of  course,  Reginald  Maltravers  was  wearing  it, 
and  of  course  they  took  his  valuables  from  him," 

243 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

said  Barnstable.  "One  of  the  ruffians  was  wear 
ing  the  ring  as  he  approached  your  vessel  with  a 
bomb.  But,  Mr.  Cleggett,  there  are  points  about 
that  bomb  explosion  which  I  do  not  understand." 

"Nor  I,"  admitted  Cleggett. 

"We  will  clear  them  up  later,"  said  the  great 
detective,  smiling  benignly  at  his  thumbs,  which  he 
was  revolving  slowly  about  each  other  as  he  re 
constructed  the  case. 

"Later!"  smiled  Barton  Ward.  "Later!"  mur 
mured  Watson  Bard.  With  their  hands  clasped 
over  their  stomachs,  they,  too,  benignly  twirled 
their  thumbs. 

"Tonight,"  pursued  Barnstable,  "having  finally 
got  all  the  information  I  wished  from  Dopey  Eddie 
and  Izzy  the  Cat  with  regard  to  Logan  Black,  I 
tossed  them  the  key  to  their  irons  and  told  them 
to  unlock  themselves  and  clear  out.  It  was  just 
before  the  storm  began,  and  they  were  sitting  on  the 
bank  of  the  canal  at  the  time.  I  allowed  them  to 
sit  there  in  the  evenings  and  get  the  fresh  air. 

"But  before  they  could  unlock  themselves 
Reginald  Maltravers,  who  had,  we  must  suppose, 
escaped  from  Morris's  through  the  carelessness  of 
one  of  Logan  Black's  subordinates,  crawled  up  the 

244 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

bank  of  the  canal,  which  he  had  swum,  and  made 
for  the  two  gunmen,  with  the  water  dripping  from 
his  eyeglass.  He  had  recognized  them  as  the  men 
who  had  dogged  and  assaulted  him,  and  every  other 
idea  was  obliterated  in  his  desire  for  vengeance. 

"They  fled.  He  pursued.  He  caught  them,  and 
they  fought.  They  succeeded  in  dropping  one  of  the 
iron  balls  on  his  foot — on  his  bunion  foot,  Mr. 
Cleggett — crippling  him." 

At  this  mention  of  the  bunion,  Miss  Genevive 
Pringle  arose  with  dignity,  and,  flinging  a  shawl 
about  her  shoulders,  left  the  cabin,  chin  in  air. 
She  did  not  vouchsafe  so  much  as  one  backward 
glance  at  Cleggett  or  the  three  detectives  or  Lady 
Agatha  as  she  left,  but  outraged  propriety  was  ex 
pressed  in  every  line  of  her  figure. 

"H'm,"  mused  the  detective,  flushing  slightly; 
and  Watson  Bard  and  Barton  Ward  also  colored 
a  little,  and  looked  hacked.  They  glanced  furtively 
at  Lady  Agatha,  to  see  if  she  too  might  be  offended. 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Barnstable,"  she  said  a  little  im 
patiently.  "Bunions  don't  bother  me,  either  men 
tally  or  physically.  I  am  familiar  with  the  idea  of 
bunions.  There  are  many  bunions  in  the  Claiborne 
family." 

245 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"On  his  bunion  foot,  crippling  him,"  resumed  the 
detective,  reassured.  "The  storm  came  up,  and  still 
the  gunmen  fled,  and  still  Reginald  Maltravers 
pursued.  I  suppose,  since  you  saw  them  on  the 
west  side  of  the  canal,  Mr.  Cleggett,  that  they  had 
run  around  the  north  end  of  it.  Probably,  while 
you  and  Logan  Black  were  fighting,  they  were  run 
ning  up  and  down  in  the  neighborhood,  in  the  storm, 
intent  only  upon  their  own  feud." 

"They  certainly  seemed  exhausted  when  I  saw 
them/'  said  Cleggett,  "all  three  of  them.  But  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  the  astuteness  with 
which  you  are  reconstructing  this  case  compels  my 
admiration." 

Wilton  Barnstable  bowed,  and  Barton  Ward  and 
Watson  Bard  slightly  inclined  their  heads. 

"Your  skill,"  said  Lady  Agatha,  "is  equal  to  that 
of  Sherlock  Holmes." 

At  the  name  of  Sherlock  Holmes  a  shade  passed 
over  the  face  of  Wilton  Barnstable.  He  slightly 
compressed  his  lips,  and  his  eyebrows  went  up  a 
fraction  of  an  inch.  This  shade  was  reflected  on 
the  faces  of  Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  but  presently 
Wilton  Barnstable  continued,  repressing  a  sigh: 

246 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

"I  thought  at  first,  Mr.  Cleggett,  that  you  were 
an  ally  of  Logan  Black's,  just  as  you  believed  me 
to  be  his  ally,  and  as  he  believed  you  and  me  to 
be  working  together.  It  may  interest  you  to  know 
that  smuggling  has  been  one  of  his  side  lines. 
There  is,  somewhere  hereabouts,  a  cave  in  which 
smuggled  goods  are  stored.  These  coasts  have  a 
sinister  history,  Mr.  Cleggett.  It  is  possible  that 
your  canal  boat — I  beg  your  pardon,  your  schooner, 
Mr.  Cleggett — played  some  part  in  their  smug 
gling  operations.  At  any  rate  it  is  evident  that 
Logan  Black  transferred  to  the  hold  of  this  vessel 
the  incriminating  evidence  against  him,  contained 
in  that  oblong  box,  when  he  learned  that  my  agents 
were  watching  Morris's.  The  Jasper  B.  has  been 
lying  in  her  present  position  for  a  long  time.  In 
the  event  that  a  sudden  get-away  from  Morris's 
became  necessary,  it  was  an  advantage  to  Logan 
Black  to  be  able  to  leave  without  being  hampered 
with  this  matter.  No  one,  for  many  years,  had 
paid  any  attention  to  the  Jasper  B.,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  the  old  truck  farmer,  Abernethy,  who  used 

sometimes  to  fish  from  her  deck,  and " 

"Truck  farmer!"  cried  Cleggett.     "Abernethy ?" 
"Truck  farmer,"  repeated  Wilton  Barnstable. 
247 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Is  not  Abernethy  an  old  sea  captain?"  asked 
Cleggett. 

"Why,  no,  I  believe  not,"  said  Barnstable.  "At 
least  I  never  heard  so.  He  is  well  known  as  a 
small  truck  gardener  in  this  neighborhood.  It  is 
true  that  he  comes  of  a  seafaring  family — indeed, 
it  is  his  boast.  But,  in  a  community  where  nearly 
everyone  knows  a  little  about  boats,  I  believe  that 
Abernethy  is  remarkable  for  an  indisposition  to 
venture  far  from  shore." 

"I  can  scarcely  believe  it,"  breathed  Cleggett. 

"He  does  not  understand  boats,"  said  Barnstable. 
"That  is  the  reason,  I  take  it,  why  he  has  always 
fished  in  the  canal  from  the  deck  of  the  Jasper  B" 

"Abernethy  is  a  gallant  man,"  said  Cleggett, 
rather  sternly.  "And  even  although  he  may  have 
had  little  actual  seafaring  experience,  the  instinct 
is  in  him!  The  inherited  love  of  a  nautical  life 
has  been  latent  in  him  all  along.  And  at  the  first 
opportunity  it  has  come  out.  He  has  shown  his 
mettle  aboard  the  Jasper  B!' 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,  if  you  insist  upon  it,"  said 
Wilton  Barnstable,  politely.  And  from  revolving 
his  thumbs  benignly  towards  himself  he  began  to 
revolve  them  urbanely  from  himself.  The  reversal 

248 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

was  imitated  at  once  by  Barton  Ward,  but  Watson 
Bard  was  slower  in  putting  this  new  coup  into 
execution. 

"The  resemblance  between  the  two  oblong  boxes 
evidently  fooled  Logan  Black,"  continued  Barn- 
stable,  "and  his  men  stole  the  wrong  one.  But  he 
knows  by  this  time  that  his  plan  to  get  the  box  has 
failed." 

"He  knows  it?"  said  Cleggett. 

"From  the  bank  of  the  canal  he  witnessed  our 
capture  of  the  box,  and  of  the  two  men  who  were 
making  off  with  it.  After  you  had  beaten  off  his 
assault  upon  the  ship,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the 
canal,  to  see  if  the  men  whom  he  had  assigned  to 
the  job  of  creeping  over  the  stern  of  the  Jasper  B. 
had  by  any  chance  succeeded  in  purloining  the  box. 
He  was  alone,  but  he  attempted  to  come  to  the 
assistance  of  his  two  followers  even  as  we  made 
them  prisoners.  In  fact,  we  exchanged  shots." 

The  great  detective  made  little  of  the  danger 
he  had  encountered.  Indeed,  his  smile  became  one 
of  amusment  as  he  removed  his  coat,  rolled  up  his 
shirt  sleeves,  and  exhibited  a  bandaged  wound  in 
the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm. 

"It  is  only  a  slight  wound,"  he  said,  beaming  on 
249 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper 


it  as  if  wounds  were  quite  delightful  affairs,  "and 
scarcely  inconveniences  me." 

Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard,  with  their  sleeves 
rolled  up,  were  also  smiling  placidly  and  indulgently 
at  bandages  about  their  left  arms.  Whether  there 
were  real  wounds  beneath  their  bandages  also,  Cleg- 
gett  could  not  determine.  The  bandage  of  Barton 
Ward  was  slightly  stained  with  red,  but  the  bandage 
of  Watson  Bard  was  quite  white.  All  three  re 
placed  their  coats  at  the  same  time,  and  Wilton 
Barnstable  went  on  : 

"Our  course  of  procedure  is  plain,  Mr.  Cleggett. 
We  have  the  evidence  against  Logan  Black.  We 
must  have  the  man  himself.  I  depend  upon  you  to 
cooperate  with  me.  I  think,"  he  said,  beaming  at 
Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard  with  an  air  of 
modest  triumph,  "that  the  case  of  Logan  Black  is 
going  to  prove  one  of  my  really  great  cases. 

"There  is  only  one  point  which  I  have  not  yet 
made  clear  to  you,  I  believe  —  and  that  is  how  Logan 
Black's  men  were  able  to  enter  and  leave  the  hold 
of  your  vessel  so  mysteriously.  But  I  am  shaping 
up  my  theory  about  that  !  I  am  shaping  it  up!" 

"Would  it  be  indiscreet  to  inquire  just  what  your 
theory  is?"  asked  Cleggett. 

250 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

And  Lady  Agatha  murmured : 

"For  my  part,  I  can  make  nothing  of  it,  and  I 
should  be  glad  to  hear  your  theory." 

"It  would,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  soberly,  "it 
would  be  premature,  if  I  told  you  my  theory  at  the 
present  moment.  You  must  pardon  me — but  it 
"would.  In  my  line  of  business — and  I  insist,  Mr. 
Cleggett,  that  I  am  a  plain  business  man,  nothing 
more — I  find  it  absolutely  necessary  not  to  com 
municate  all  my  information  to  the  layman  until  the 
case  is  quite  perfect  in  all  its  points.  But  do  not 
get  the  notion,  Mr.  Cleggett,  that  I  underestimate 
the  part  that  you  have  taken  in  the  case  of  Logan 
Black.  You  have  helped  me,  Mr.  Cleggett.  When 
I  have  my  secretary  prepare  the  case  of  Logan 
Black  for  magazine  and  newspaper  publication  I 
shall  have  your  name  mentioned  as  that  of  a  person 
who  has  helped  me.  Yes,  you  have  helped  me." 

As  he  spoke  he  picked  from  a  reading  table  a 
magazine,  on  the  cover  of  which  appeared  his  own 
portrait — or  rather,  the  portrait  of  the  popular  con 
ception  of  Wilton  Barnstable — and  began  to  make 
motions  about  it  with  his  finger.  He  appeared 
to  be  marking  off  the  space  beside  the  portrait  into 
an  arrangement  of  letters  and  spaces.  His  lips 

251 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

moved  as  he  did  so;  he  murmured:  "The  Case 
of  Logan  Black — the  Case  of  Logan  Black!"  He 
seemed  to  see,  with  the  eye  of  a  typographical  ex 
pert,  the  legend  printed  there.  Barton  Ward  and 
Watson  Bard,  slightly  flushed  and  a  little  excited  in 
spite  of  themselves,  seemed  also  to  see  it  there. 

It  might  have  occurred  to  a  person  more  critical 
than  Cleggett  that  it  was  he  himself  who  had  fur 
nished  nearly  all  the  real  evidence  upon  which 
Wilton  Barnstable  was  constructing  this  Case  of 
Logan  Black.  But  Cleggett  looked  for  the  gold 
in  men,  not  the  dross ;  the  great  qualities  of  Wilton 
Barnstable  appealed  to  his  imagination ;  the  best  in 
Cleggett  responded  to  the  best  in  Wilton  Barn- 
stable  ;  if  the  detective  possessed  a  certain  amount  of 
vanity,  Cleggett  preferred  to  overlook  it. 

"Decidedly,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  laying  down 
the  magazine,  and  looking  at  Cleggett  kindly  and 
serenely,  "I  shall  see  to  it  that  your  name  is  men 
tioned  in  connection  with  the  Case  of  Logan  Black." 
And  Barton  Ward  and  Watson  Bard  also  bent  upon 
him  their  bland  and  friendly  regard. 

Cleggett  was  about  to  thank  them,  but  at  that 
moment  there  was  a  commotion  of  some  sort  on 
deck. 

252 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

Two  female  voices,  one  of  which  they  all 
recognized  as  that  of  Miss  Genevieve  Pringle,  were 
mingling  in  a  babble  of  greeting,  expostulation,  in 
terjection,  and  explanation,  and  presently  Miss 
Pringle  entered  the  cabin,  followed  by  a  younger 
lady  who,  except  for  her  youth,  looked  much  like 
her. 

"My  niece,  Miss  Henrietta  Pringle,  of  Flatbush," 
said  Miss  Pringle,  primly  presenting  her  prim  rela 
tion.  "She  has  just  arrived " 

"With  the  plum  preserves!"  cried  Lady  Agatha. 

"With  the  plum  preserves,"  confirmed  Miss 
Genevieve  Pringle. 

And  Captain  Abernethy  and  George  the  Greek 
bore  into  the  cabin  a  third  oblong  box,  exactly 
similar  in  appearance  to  the  box  of  Reginald  Mal- 
travers  and  the  box  which  contained  the  evidence 
against  Logan  Black,  and  set  it  on  the  floor. 

The  three  detectives  stood  and  looked  at  the  three 
boxes  with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction. 

"With  this  addition  to  our  oblong  boxes,"  said 
Wilton  Barnstable,  "their  number  is  now  com 
plete.  Miss  Henrietta  Pringle,  we  will  listen  to 
your  story." 

There  was  little  to  tell,  and  Miss  Henrietta 
253 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Pringle  told  it  in  a  breath.  Having  received  no 
acknowledgment  of  the  receipt  of  the  plum  pre 
serves  from  her  aunt,  an  unusual  oversight  on  her 
aunt's  part,  she  had  journeyed  to  Newark  with  a 
vague  fear  that  there  might  be  something  wrong. 

"Arrived  in  Newark,"  she  said,  "I  learned  that 
my  aunt,  with  her  two  white  horses  and  her  family 
carriage  driven  by  Jefferson,  the  negro  coachman, 
had  suddenly  left  Newark,  without  giving  any  ex 
planation  to  anyone,  or  making  her  destination 
known. 

"The  proceeding  was  very  strange;  it  was  very 
unlike  my  aunt,  and  I  was  frightened.  Everyone 
who  had  seen  her  start  testified  that  she  was  labor 
ing  under  a  great  nervous  strain  of  some  sort. 

"I  called  at  the  freight  depot  and  got  the  box 
of  plum  preserves  which  I  had  shipped  to  her.  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  feared  for  her  reason.  I  thought 
that  if  I  could  find  her,  and  could  show  her  the 
familiar  plum  preserves,  which  she  loved  so  well, 
they  would  be  of  material  assistance  in  influencing 
her  to  return  to  her  home.  So,  setting  out  to  search 
for  her  in  my  Ford  auto,  I  took  the  box  of  plum 
preserves  with  me. 

"I  soon  got  upon  her  trail.  The  negro  coachman, 
254 


The  Third  Oblong  Box  Arrives 

the  family  carriage  and  the  white  horses  had  ex 
cited  remark  everywhere.  Briefly,  I  traced  her  here, 
and  am  happy  to  discover  that  my  worst  fears  with 
regard  to  her  have  proved  false." 

"Henrietta,"  said  her  aunt,  reproachfully,  "your 
fears  do  you  very  little  credit,  or  me  either." 

"Aunt  Genevieve,"  said  the  niece,  "pray,  do  not 
rebuke  me." 

"I  was  certain,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  com 
placently,  "that  it  would  develop  that  Miss  Gene 
vieve  Pringle  was  herself  being  pursued.  I  was 
confident  of  it,  Cleggett.  And  now  that  I  have 
cleared  up  for  you  the  mystery  of  Logan  Black,  the 
mystery  of  the  box  of  Reginald  Maltravers,  and  the 
mystery  of  the  box  of  plum  preserves,  there  only 
remains  the  capture  of  Logan  Black  to  hold  me 
in  this  part  of  the  country  and  to  keep  you  from 
your  voyage  to  the  China  Seas." 

"We  must  get  together,"  said  Cleggett,  "on  a 
plan  of  campaign.  Logan  Black  will  certainly  at 
tack  again.  He  has  only  been  beaten  off  tempora 
rily.  In  the  meanwhile,  it  is  almost  breakfast 
time." 

And,  indeed,  the  lights  in  the  cabin  were  sud 
denly  growing  pale.  The  sun  was  rising.  Its 

255 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

beams,  shining  through  the  cabin  skylight,  fell  upon 
the  three  great  detectives,  each  one  of  whom,  with 
an  air  of  ineffable  satisfaction,  was  gloating — but 
gloating  urbanely  and  with  dignity — over  an  oblong 
box. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

DANCING  ON  THE  DECK 

IT  was  decided,  at  a  conference  of  Lady  Agatha, 
Cleggett,  and  the  three  detectives,  at  the  break 
fast  table,  to  throw  up  a  line  of  entrench 
ments  along  the  bank  of  the  canal  commanding  the 
approach  to  the  Jasper  B.  and  the  Annabel  Lee. 
No  one  felt  the  least  doubt  that  Logan  Black  would 
renew  the  attack  sooner  or  later,  unless  the  two 
vessels  made  off. 

"And,"  said  Cleggett,  "I  shall  not  leave  until  the 
Jasper  B.  has  been  rigged  as  a  schooner  again. 
Anything  else  would  have  the  appearance  of  a  re 
treat.  Nor  will  I  be  hurried.  I  am  on  my  own 
property,  and  I  purpose  to  defend  it  at  whatever 
cost." 

He  set  his  jaws  firmly  as  he  declared  this  inten 
tion,  and  Lady  Agatha's  eyes  dwelt  upon  him  in 
admiration. 

"The  Annabel  Lee  could  tow  you  away,  you 
know,"  demurred  Wilton  Barnstable. 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"When  the  Jasper  B.  moves,"  said  Cleggett,  with 
finality,  "it  will  be  under  her  own  power." 

Accordingly,  work  was  begun  at  once  on  the  en 
trenchments.  Everyone  on  board  the  Jasper  B.  was 
sadly  in  need  of  sleep,  but  Cleggett  felt  that  the 
earthworks  could  not  wait.  He  divided  his  force 
into  two  shifts.  Cleggett,  the  three  detectives, 
Jefferson  the  genial  coachman,  and  Washington 
Artillery  Lamb,  the  janitor  and  butler  of  the  house 
boat  Annabel  Lee,  a  negro  as  large  and  black  as 
Jefferson  himself,  took  a  two-hour  trick  with  the 
spades  and  then  lay  down  and  slept  while  Abernethy, 
Kuroki,  Elmer,  Calthrop,  George  the  Greek,  and 
Earns  worth  dug  for  an  equal  length  of  time.  The 
two  prisoners  captured  by  Barnstable  the  night  be 
fore,  one  of  whom  was  the  smirking  and  sinister 
Pierre,  were  compelled  to  dig  all  the  time.  Even 
Teddy,  Lady  Agatha's  little  Pomeranian,  dug.  The 
ladies  of  the  party  slept  throughout  the  morning. 

During  the  forenoon  Cleggett  dispatched  Dr. 
Farnsworth  to  the  city  in  Miss  Henrietta  Pringle's 
Ford  car,  and  he  returned  about  one  o'clock  with 
four  more  trained  nurses.  They  were  installed  on 
board  the  l  houseboat  Annabel  Lee,  instead  of  at 
Parker's  Beach  as  Cleggett  had  originally  intended, 

258 


Dancing  on  the  Deck 


and  the  Red  Cross  flag  was  hoisted  over  that  ves 
sel.  Cleggett  felt  confident  that  the  next  battle 
would  be  sanguinary  in  character,  and,  true  to  his 
humanitarian  ideals,  was  resolved  to  be  fully  pre 
pared  this  time  to  care  for  as  many  people  as  he 
might  disable.  Giuseppe  Jones,  who  was  quieter 
now,  although  at  times  still  irrationally  babbling  in 
cendiary  vers  libre  poems,  was  removed  to  the 
Annabel  Lee,  where  Miss  Medley,  quite  worn  out, 
turned  him  over  to  a  fresh  nurse. 

By  the  time  the  reinforcement  of  nurses  had 
arrived  the  earthworks  of  the  good  ship  Jasper  B. 
were  completed,  and,  after  a  double  portion  of  stiff 
grog  all  around,  Cleggett  ordered  all  hands  to  lie 
down  on  the  deck  for  an  hour's  comfortable  nap. 
He  stood  watch  himself.  Cleggett  had  not  slept 
much  during  the  past  forty-eight  hours,  but  he  was 
a  man  of  iron.  Like  King  Henry  Fifth  of  England, 
Cleggett  found  a  certain  pleasure  in  watching  while 
his  troops  slumbered.  Cleggett  and  this  lively 
monarch  had  other  points  in  common,  although 
Cleggett,  even  in  his  youth,  would  never  have  asso 
ciated  with  a  character  so  habitually  dissolute  as  Sir 
John  FalstafT. 

The  construction  of  the  trench  was  not  without 
259 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

its  effect  upon  the  gang  of  villains  at  Morris's. 
About  nine  in  the  morning  Cleggett  noticed  that 
he  was  under  observation  from  the  roof  of  the  east 
verandah  of  the  road  house.  Loge  and  two  of  his 
ruffianly  lieutenants  were  scrutinizing  the  Cleggett 
flotilla  and  fortifications  through  their  binoculars. 
Cleggett,  through  his  own  glass,  returned  the  com 
pliment. 

The  three  men  were  conducting  an  animated 
discussion.  From  their  gestures  they  seemed  to 
be  completely  nonplussed  by  the  entrenchments. 
Watching  their  pantomime  closely,  Cleggett  gath 
ered  that  Loge  was  endeavoring  to  enforce  some 
point  of  view  with  regard  to  the  Jasper  B.  upon  his 
two  followers.  Finally  Loge,  making  a  gesture 
towards  Cleggett  with  one  hand,  tapped  himself 
several  times  on  the  forehead  with  the  other,  his  lips 
moving  rapidly  the  while.  The  two  other  men 
shrugged  their  shoulders  and  nodded,  as  if  in  agree 
ment  with  Loge.  The  insulting  significance  of  the 
gesture  was  only  too  apparent.  As  plainly  as  if 
he  had  heard  the  accompanying  words  Cleggett 
understood  that  Loge,  out  of  the  depths  of  his  per 
plexity,  had  said  that  he  (Cleggett)  was  mentally 
erratic. 

260 


Dancing  on  the  Deck 


"Ah,  you  think  so,  do  you  ?"  said  Cleggett  aloud, 
laying  down  his  glass  and  seizing  a  rifle.  "Well, 
just  to  let  you  know  that  I  have  a  certain  opinion 

of  you,  also,  my  friend  Loge "  And  he  sent  a 

bullet  over  the  heads  of  the  three  men.  They 
hastily  ducked  into  the  house.  Cleggett  might  have 
picked  Loge  off,  but  he  disdained  to  do  so.  It  was 
his  purpose  to  take  the  man  alive,  if  possible. 

But  the  rifle  shot  did  not  end  the  espionage.  All 
day  scouting  parties  in  taxicabs  kept  appearing  on 
the  sandy  plain  to  reconnoiter  the  fleet  and  fortress. 
They  circled,  they  swooped,  they  dashed,  they  zig 
zagged  here  and  there,  but  always  at  a  high  rate  of 
speed,  and  always  at  a  prudent  distance  from  the 
canal.  Beyond  sending  an  occasional  rifle  ball 
whistling  towards  the  wheels  of  the  cabs,  or  over 
the  heads  of  the  occupants,  to  remind  them  to  keep 
their  distance,  Cleggett  paid  but  little  attention  to 
these  parties.  If  Loge  thought  him  demented,  if 
he  had  his  enemy  guessing,  so  much  the  better.  The 
eccentric  movements  of  these  cabs  was  a  circum 
stance  which  in  itself  testified  to  Loge's  bewilder 
ment  and  curiosity. 

Cleggett  had  no  idea  that  there  would  be  an  at 
tack  before  nightfall,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the 

261 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

afternoon  he  awakened  all  the  members  of  his  crew 
who  were  still  sleeping,  ordered  them  into  bathing 
suits,  a  supply  of  which  he  had  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  have  the  young  doctor  bring  out  along 
with  the  nurses,  and  piped  them  into  the  canal. 
The  water  was  cold,  but  they  came  out  refreshed 
and  invigorated  by  the  plunge  and  feeling  fit  for 
any  struggle  that  might  be  ahead  of  them.  This 
maneuver  on  the  part  of  Cleggett  and  his  marines 
and  infantrymen  seemed  still  more  to  excite  the 
curiosity  and  contribute  to  the  bewilderment  of 
Loge  and  his  ruffians. 

After  the  general  bath  and  a  substantial  lunch, 
Cleggett  called  all  hands  aft  and  addressed  them. 

"Ladies  and  loyal  followers  and  co-workers," 
he  said.  "We  have  passed  some  nights  and  days  of 
peril.  And  there  are,  I  doubt  not,  still  parlous  times 
ahead  of  the  Jasper  B.  before  our  ship  sets  sail  for 
the  China  Seas.  But  what  is  sweeter  than  pleasure 
snatched  from  the  very  presence  of  danger?  Cour 
age  and  gayety  should  go  hand  in  hand!  It  is  a 
beautiful  May  afternoon,  we  have  a  goodly  deck 
beneath  our  feet,  and,  briefly,  who  is  for  a  dance?" 

A  huzza  showed  the  popularity  of  the  suggestion. 
Washington  Artillery  Lamb,  the  janitor  and  butler 

262 


Dancing  on  tlie  Deck 


of  the  Annabel  Lee,  possessed  an  accordion  on  which 
he  was  an  earnest  and  artistic  performer.  Miss 
Pringle's  Jefferson  had  with  him  a  harmonica,  or 
mouth  organ,  which  he  at  once  produced.  Jeffer 
son  was  endowed  with  the  peculiar  gift  of  manipu 
lating  this  little  musical  instrument  solely  with  his 
lips,  moving  it  back  and  forth  and  round  about  as 
he  played,  without  touching  it  with  his  hands;  and 
this  left  his  hands  free  to  pat  the  time.  The  negro 
orchestra  perched  itself  on  the  top  of  the  cabin, 
and  in  a  moment  Lady  Agatha,  the  five  nurses, 
Cleggett,  the  three  detectives,  Dr.  Farnsworth,  and 
Captain  Abernethy  were  tangoing  on  the  deck.  And 
this  to  the  still  further  perplexity  of  Logan  Black. 
As  the  dance  started  Cleggett  saw  that  person, 
almost  distracted  by  his  inability  to  comprehend  the 
mental  processes  of  the  commander  of  the  Jasper  B., 
rise  to  his  feet  in  an  automobile  that  had  stopped  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  away,  and  beat  with  both 
hands  upon  his  temples,  gnashing  his  long  yellow 
teeth  the  while. 

The  Rev.  Simeon  Calthrop  turned  sadly  away 
from  the  vessel,  and,  with  a  sigh,  went  and  sat  in  the 
trench,  where  he  was  soon  joined  by  Elmer.  The 
disgraced  preacher  and  the  reformed  convict  had 

263 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

struck  up  a  fast  friendship.  They  sat  with  their 
backs  towards  the  Jasper  B.,  and  Cleggett  supposed 
from  their  attitude  that  they  were  sternly  con 
demnatory  of  the  frivolity  and  festivity  on  board 
ship. 

Cleggett,  after  the  first  dance,  sought  them  out. 

"I  hope,"  he  said  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop,  not 
unkindly,  "that  you  don't  disapprove  of  us." 

"It  isn't  that,  Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  the  ship's  chap 
lain,  with  sorrow  in  his  eloquent  brown  eyes,  "it 
isn't  that  at  all.  In  fact,  I  had  a  tango  class  in  the 
basement  of  my  church,  every  Thursday  evening — 
when  I  had  a  church." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

"Alas!"  sighed  the  young  preacher.  "I  do  not 
trust  myself!  Women,  as  I  have  told  you,  Mr. 
Cleggett,  are  apt  to  become  fascinated  with  me.  I 
cannot  help  it.  It  is  in  such  gay  scenes  as  this  that 
the  danger  lies,  Mr.  Cleggett.  As  an  honorable 
man,  I  feel  that  I  am  bound  to  withdraw  myself 
and  my  fatal  influence." 

"You  are  too  subtle — too  subtle  for  moral 
health,"  said  Cleggett.  "But  I  will  not  attempt  to 
influence  you.  Elmer,  are  you  also  afraid  of  in 
spiring  a  hopeless  passion  ?" 

264 


Dancing  an  the  Deck 


"Mister  Cleggett,"  said  Elmer  gloomily  and 
huskily,  out  of  one  corner  of  his  mouth,  "I  ain't 
takin'  a  chancet.  D'  youse  get  me  ?  Not  a  chancet. 
Oncet  youse  reformed,  Mr.  Cleggett,  youse  can't 
be  too  careful." 

Cleggett  returned  to  the  vessel.  Miss  Pringle 
the  elder  was  leaving  it.  Miss  Henrietta  Pringle 
was  following.  Cleggett  gathered  that  the  niece 
left  reluctantly,  and  under  the  coercion  of  the  aunt. 

Miss  Pringle  the  elder  was  about  to  join  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Calthrop  in  the  trench.  Morality,  as  well  as 
misery,  loves  company.  But  Mr.  Calthrop  saw 
the  Misses  Pringle  coming.  He  swiftly  rose,  passed 
them  by  with  his  face  averted,  and  went  aboard 
the  Annabel  Lee.  It  was  evident  that  he  believed 
that  his  fatal  gift  of  fascination  had  attracted 
these  ladies  towards  him  in  spite  of  himself.  Elmer 
and  the  Misses  Pringle  sat  gloomily  on  a  clean  plank 
in  the  trench  while  the  dance  went  gayly  on. 

"If  you  was  to  ask  me,"  said  Cap'n  Abernethy, 
pausing  winded  from  the  tango,  strong  old  man 
that  he  was,  "I'd  give  it  as  my  opinion  that  them 
that  gits  their  enjoyment  in  an  oncheerful  way 
don't  git  nigh  as  much  of  it  as  them  that  gits  it  in 
a  cheerful  way.  Mrs.  Lady  Agatha,  ma'am,  if  you 

265 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

kin  fox-trot  as  well  as  you  kin  tango  I'll  never  have 
another  word  to  say  agin  female  suffragettes." 

But  as  Cap'n  Abernethy  spoke  the  grin  froze 
upon  his  face. 

"My  God!  Look  there!"  he  shrilled,  pointing  a 
long  ringer  towards  the  plain.  Simultaneously  the 
Misses  Pringle,  shrieking  wildly,  leaped  from  the 
trench  towards  the  ship  and  Elmer  fired  a  pistol 
shot. 

Cleggett  beheld  five  taxicabs,  filled  with  Loge's 
assassins,  charging  towards  the  vessel  at  the  rate  of 
thirty  miles  an  hour. 

"To  arms!  To  arms!"  shouted  the  commander 
of  the  Jasper  B. 

But  the  enemy,  with  Logan  Black  in  the  lead, 
had  already  reached  the  trenches.  They  flung  them 
selves  to  the  ground  and  swept  over  the  trench 
towards  the  bulwarks,  twenty  strong,  with  flashing 
machetes.  So  confident  had  Cleggett  been  that 
Loge  would  not  dare  to  attack  in  broad  daylight 
that  he  had  scarcely  even  considered  the  possibility. 
It  was  the  one  fault  of  his  military  and  naval 
career. 

"Cutlasses,  men,  and  at  them!"  he  cried. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 
CUTLASSES 

THERE  was  no  thought  of  guns  or  pistols. 
There  was  no  time  to  aim  or  fire.    Loge's 
rush  had  lodged  him  on  the  deck.     Roar 
ing  like  a  wild  animal,  he  carried  the  fight  to  the 
defenders.     He  meant  to  make  a  finish  of  it  this 
time,  and  with  the  edged  and  bitter  steel. 

As  the  women  scurried  into  the  cabin  the  two 
lines  met,  with  a  ringing  clash  of  blades,  on  the 
deck  of  the  Jasper  B.,  and  the  sparks  flew  from  the 
stricken  metal.  Cleggett  strove  to  engage  Loge 
hand  to  hand;  and  Loge,  on  his  part,  attempted  to 
fight  his  way  to  Cleggett;  they  shouted  insults  at 
each  other  across  the  press  of  battle.  But  in  affairs 
of  this  sort  a  man  must  give  his  attention  to  the 
person  directly  in  front  of  him;  otherwise  he  is 
lost.  As  Cleggett  cut  and  thrust  and  parried,  a 
sudden  seizure  overtook  him;  he  moved  as  if  in  a 
dream ;  he  had  the  eerie  feeling  that  he  had  done  all 
this  before,  sometime,  perhaps  in  a  previous  e>^- 

267 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

istence,  and  would  do  it  again.  The  clangor  of  the 
meeting  swords,  the  inarticulate  shouts  and  curses, 
the  dance  of  struggling  men  across  the  deck,  the 
whirling  confusion  of  the  whole  fantastic  scene  be 
neath  the  quiet  skies,  struck  upon  his  consciousness 
with  that  strange  phantasmagoric  quality  which 
makes  the  hurrying  unreality  of  dreams  so  much 
more  vivid  and  more  real  than  anything  in  waking 
life. 

In  the  center  of  Cleggett's  line  stood  the  three 
detectives  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Their  three  swords 
rose  and  fell  as  one.  They  cut  and  lunged  and 
guarded  with  a  machine-like  regularity,  advancing, 
giving  ground,  advancing  again,  with  a  rhythmic 
unanimity  which  was  baffling  to  their  opponents. 

On  either  flank  of  the  detectives  fought  one  of  the 
gigantic  negroes.  Washington  Artillery  Lamb,  al 
most  at  once,  had  broken  his  cutlass,  and  now  he 
raged  m  the  waist  of  the  Jasper  B.  with  a  long  iron 
bar  in  his  hand.  Miss  Pringle's  Jefferson,  with  his 
high  cockaded  hat  still  firmly  fixed  upon  his  head, 
laid  about  him  with  a  heavy  cavalry  saber;  in  his 
excitement  he  still  held  his  harmonica  in  his  mouth 
and  blew  blasts  upon  it  as  he  fought.  The  Rev. 
Simeon  Calthrop,  in  a  loud  agitated  voice,  sang 

268 


Cutlasses 


hymns  as  he  swung  his  cutlass.  And,  among  the 
legs  of  the  combatants,  leapt  and  snapped  Teddy 
the  Pomeranian,  biting  friend  and  foe  indiscrimi 
nately  upon  the  ankles. 

But  gradually  the  weight  of  superior  numbers  be 
gan  to  tell.  Farnsworth  staggered  from  the  fight 
with  a  face  covered  with  blood  which  blinded  him. 
Cap'n  Abernethy  likewise  was  bleeding  from  a 
wound  in  the  head;  George  the  Greek  and  Watson 
Bard  were  hurt,  but  both  fought  on.  The  crew 
of  the  Jasper  B.  and  their  allies  of  the  Annabel  Lee 
were  being  slowly  forced  back  towards  the  cabin, 
when  there  came  a  sudden  and  decisive  turn  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  fight. 

Cleggett,  straining  to  meet  Loge,  who  hung 
sword  to  sword  with  Wilton  Barnstable,  saw 
Giuseppe  Jones,  deserted  by  his  nurses,  tumbling 
feebly  over  the  bow  of  the  Jasper  B.  in  the  rear  of 
Loge's  line.  Barelegged,  a  red  blanket  fastened 
about  his  throat  with  a  big  brass  safety  pin,  a  ther 
mometer  in  one  hand  and  a  medicine  bottle  in  the 
other,  he  tottered  crazily  and  weakly  between  Loge 
and  Barnstable,  chanting  a  vers  libre  poem  in  a 
shrill,  insane  voice. 

Loge,  who  had  extended  himself  in  a  vigorous 

269 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

lunge,  was  struck  by  the  weight  of  the  young 
anarchist's  body  at  the  crook  of  the  knees,  and  came 
down  on  the  deck  at  full  length,  his  machete  flying 
from  his  hand  as  he  fell. 

Cleggett  was  upon  the  criminal  in  an  instant,  his 
hand  at  the  outlaw's  throat.  They  grappled  and 
rolled  upon  the  deck.  But  in  another  second  Wilton 
Barnstable  and  Barton  Ward,  coming  to  Cleggett's 
assistance,  had  snapped  irons  upon  the  president  of 
the  crime  trust,  hand  and  foot. 

His  overthrow  was  the  signal  of  his  men's  de 
feat.  As  he  went  down  they  hesitated  and  wavered. 
The  two  great  negroes,  taking  advantage  of  this 
hesitation,  burst  among  them  with  mighty  blows 
and  strange  Afro-American  oaths,  Castor  and  Pol 
lux  in  bronze.  With  a  shout  of  "Banzai !"  Kuroki 
rushed  forward  with  his  kris;  the  other  defenders 
added  weight  and  fury  to  the  rally.  Before  the 
irons  were  on  the  wrists  of  Loge  his  men  were 
routed.  They  leaped  the  rail  and  made  off  for  their 
fleet  of  taxicabs,  flinging  away  their  weapons  as 
they  ran. 

Loge  writhed  and  twisted  and  lashed  the  deck 
with  his  legs  and  body  for  a  moment,  striving  even 
against  the  bands  of  steel  that  bit  into  his  wrists 

270 


Cutlasses 


and  ankles.  And  then  he  lay  still  with  his  face 
against  the  planks  as  if  in  a  vast  and  overwhelming 
bitterness  of  despair. 

It  had  been  Cleggett's  earlier  thought  to  take  the 
man  alive,  if  possible,  and  turn  him  over  to  the  au 
thorities.  But  now  that  Loge  was  taken  he  burned 
with  the  wish  for  personal  combat  with  him.  He 
desired  to  be  the  agent  of  society,  and  put  an  end 
to  Logan  Black  himself. 

Cleggett,  as  he  gazed  at  the  fellow  lying  prone 
upon  the  deck,  could  not  repress  a  murmur  of  dis 
satisfaction. 

"We  never  fought  it  out,"  he  said. 

Whether  Loge  heard  him  or  not,  the  same  thought 
was  evidently  running  in  his  mind.  He  lifted  his 
head.  A  slow,  malignant  grin  that  showed  his 
yellow  canine  teeth  lifted  his  upper  lip.  He  fixed 
his  eyes  on  Cleggett  with  a  cold  deadliness  of  hatred 
and  said: 

"You  are  lucky." 

Outwardly  Cleggett  remained  calm,  but  inwardly 
he  was  shaken  with  an  intensity  of  passion  that 
matched  Loge's  own. 

"Lucky?"  he  said  quietly.  "That  is  as  may  be. 
And  if,  as  I  infer,  you  desire  a  settlement  of  a  more 

271 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

personal  nature  than  the  law  recognizes,  it  is  still 
not  too  late  to  accommodate  you." 

"Desire!"  cried  Loge,  with  a  movement  of  his 
manacled  hands.  "I  would  go  to  Hell  happy  if  I 
sent  you  ahead  of  me!" 

"Very  well,"  said  Cleggett.  "Since  you  have 
challenged  me  I  will  fight  you.  I  will  do  you  that 
honor." 

Loge  was  about  to  answer  when  Wilton  Barn- 
stable  broke  in: 

"Mr.  Cleggett,"  he  said,  "I  scarcely  understand 
you.  Are  you  consenting  to  fight  this  man?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Cleggett.     "He  has  challenged 


me." 


"A  duel?"  said  Wilton  Barnstable  in  astonish 
ment. 

"A  duel." 

"But  that  is  impossible.  His  life  is  forfeit  to 
the  law.  I  hope,  before  the  year  is  out,  to  send 
him  to  the  electric  chair.  Under  the  circumstances, 
a  duel  is  an  absurdity." 

"An  absurdity?"  Cleggett,  with  his  hands  on 
his  hips,  and  a  little  dancing  light  in  his  eyes,  faced 
the  great  detective  squarely.  "You  permit  your 
self  very  peculiar  expressions,  Mr.  Barnstable !" 

272 


Cutlasses 


"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable.  "I 
withdraw  'absurdity.'  But  you  must  see  yourself, 
Mr.  Cleggett,  that  a  duel  is  useless,  if  nothing  else. 
The  man  is  our  prisoner.  He  belongs  to  the  law." 

Loge  had  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture,  his  back 
against  the  port  bulwark,  and  was  listening  with 
an  odd  look  on  his  face. 

"The  law?"  said  Cleggett.  "I  suppose,  in  one 
sense,  that  is  true.  But  the  matter  has  its  personal 
element  as  well." 

"I  must  insist,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  "that 
Logan  Black  is  my  prisoner." 

Cleggett  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  said 
firmly:  "Mr.  Barnstable,  it  is  painful  to  me  to 
have  to  remind  you  of  it,  but  your  attitude  forces 
me  to  an  equal  directness.  The  fact  that  Logan 
Black  is  now  a  captive  is  due  to  his  efforts  to  re 
cover  certain  evidence  which  may  be  used  against 
him.  This  evidence  I  discovered  and  defended,  and 
this  evidence  I  now  hold  in  my  possession." 

Wilton  Barnstable  was  about  to  retort,  perhaps 
heatedly,  but  Cleggett,  generous  even  while  deter 
mined  to  have  his  own  way,  hastened  to  add :  "Do 
not  think,  Mr.  Barnstable,  that  I  minimize  your 
work,  or  your  assistance — but,  after  all,  what  am 

273 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

I  demanding  that  is  unreasonable?  If  Logan  Black 
dies  by  my  hand,  are  not  the  ends  of  justice  served 
as  well  as  if  he  died  in  the  electric  chair?  And  if 
I  fall,  the  law  may  still  take  its  course/' 

Loge  had  listened  to  this  speech  attentively. 
He  lifted  his  head  and  glanced  about  the  deck, 
filling  his  lungs  with  a  deep  draft  of  air.  Some 
thing  like  a  gleam  of  hope  was  visible  in  his 
features. 

"It  is  irregular,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  frown 
ing,  and  not  half  convinced.  "And,  in  the  name 
of  Heaven,  why  imperil  your  life  needlessly?  Why 
expose  yourself  again  to  the  power  of  this  mon 
strous  criminal  ?" 

"The  fellow  has  challenged  me,  and  I  have 
granted  him  a  meeting,"  said  Cleggett.  "I  hope 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  honor!" 

"Clement !"  It  was  Lady  Agatha  who  spoke.  As 
she  did  so  she  laid  her  hand  on  Cleggett's  arm. 
She  had  hearkened  in  silence  to  the  colloquy  be 
tween  him  and  Barnstable,  as  had  the  others.  She 
drew  him  out  of  sight  and  hearing  behind  the 
cabin. 

"Clement,"  she  said  with  agitation,  "do  not  fight 
this  man !" 

274 


Cutlasses 


"I  must,"  he  said  simply.  It  cut  him  to  the  heart 
to  refuse  the  first  request  that  she  had  asked  of  him 
since  his  avowal  of  his  love  for  her  and  her  tacit 
acceptance.  But,  to  a  man  of  Cleggett's  ideas,  there 
was  no  choice. 

"Clement,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  "you  have  told 
me  that  you  love  me." 

"Agatha!"  he  murmured  brokenly. 

"And  you  know "  she  paused,  as  if  she  could 

not  continue,  but  her  eyes  and  manner  spoke  the 
rest.  In  a  moment  her  lips  spoke  it  too;  she  was 
not  the  sort  of  woman  who  is  afraid  to  avow  the 
promptings  of  her  heart.  "You  know,"  she  said, 
"that  I  love  you." 

"Agatha!"  he  cried  again.  He  could  say  no 
more. 

"Oh,  Clement,"  she  said,  "if  you  were  killed— 
killed  uselessly! — now  that  I  have  found  you,  I 
could  not  bear  it.  Dear,  I  could  not  bear  it!" 

Cleggett  was  profoundly  moved.  He  yearned  to 
take  her  in  his  arms  to  comfort  her,  and  to  promise 
anything  she  wished.  And  the  thought  came  to  him 
too  that,  if  he  should  perish,  the  one  kiss,  given 
and  received  in  the  darkness  and  danger  of  fight 
and  storm,  would  be  all  the  brave  sweetness  of  her 

275 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

that  he  would  know  this  side  of  the  grave;  the 
thought  came  to  him  bitterly.  For  an  instant  he 
wavered. 

"Agatha !"  he  said  with  dry  lips.  "I  have  already 
accepted  the  fellow's  challenge." 

"And  what  of  that?"  she  cried.  "Would  you 
cling  to  a  barren  point  of  honor  in  despite  of  love?" 

"Even  so,"  he  said,  and  sighed. 

"Oh,  Clement,"  she  said,  "I  cannot  bear  it!  I 
cannot  bear  to  lose  you!  I  always  knew  you 
were  in  the  world  somewhere — and  now  that  I  have 
found  you  it  is  only  to  give  you  up!  It  is  too 
much !" 

Cleggett  was  silent  for  a  moment.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  slowly  and  gently,  but  earnestly. 

"No  point  of  honor  is  a  barren  one,  dear,"  he 
said.  "What  the  man  lying  there  may  be  mat 
ters  nothing.  It  is  not  to  him  that  I  have  given  my 
word,  but  to  myself.  In  our  hurried  modern  life 
we  are  not  punctilious  enough  about  these  things. 
Perhaps,  in  the  old  days,  the  men  and  women  were 
worse  than  we  in  many  ways.  But  they  held  to  a 
few  traditions,  or  the  best  of  them  did,  that  make 
the  loose  and  tawdry  manners  of  this  age  seem 
cheap  indeed.  All  my  life  I  have  known  that  there 

276 


Cutlasses 


was  something  shining  and  simple  and  precious 
concealed  from  the  common  herd  of  men  in  this 
common  age,  which  the  brighter  spirits  of  the  old 
days  lived  by  and  served  and  worshiped.  I  have 
always  seen  it  plainly,  and  always  tried  to  live  by  it, 
too.  Perhaps  it  was  never,  in  any  period,  more 
than  a  dream ;  but  I  have  dreamed  that  dream.  And 
anyone  who  dreams  that  dream  will  have  a  rever 
ence  for  his  spoken  word  no  matter  to  whom  it  is 
passed.  I  may  be  a  fool  to  fight  this  man;  well 
then,  that  is  the  kind  of  fool  I  am !  Indeed,  I  know 
I  am  a  fool  by  the  judgments  of  this  age.  But  I 
have  never  truly  lived  in  this  age.  I  have  lived  in 
the  past ;  I  have  held  to  the  dream ;  I  have  believed 
in  the  bright  adventure;  I  have  walked  with  the 
generous,  chivalric  spirits  of  the  great  ages;  they 
have  come  to  me  out  of  my  books  and  dwelt  with 
me  and  been  my  companions,  and  the  realities  of 
time  and  place  have  been  unreal  in  their  presence. 
I  see  myself  so  walking  always.  It  may  be  that  I 
am  a  vain  ass,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  It  may  be  that 
I  am  a  little  mad;  but  I  would  rather  be  mad  with 
a  Don  Quixote  than  sane  with  an  Andrew  Carnegie 
and  pile  up  platitudes  and  dollars. 

"And  all  this  foolishness  of  mine  is  somehow 
277 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

bound  up  with  the  thought  that  I  have  engaged  to 
fight  that  evil  fellow,  and  must  do  it ;  all  the  bright, 
sane  madness  in  me  cries  out  th'at  he  is  to  die  by 
this  hand  of  mine. 

"I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you,  as  I  have  never 
done  to  anyone  before.  And  now  I  put  myself 
into  your  hands.  But,  oh,  take  care — for  it  is  some 
thing  in  me  better  than  myself  that  I  give  you  to 
deal  with !  And  you  can  cripple  it  forever,  because 
I  love  you  and  I  shall  listen  to  you.  Shall  I  fight 
him?" 

She  had  listened,  mute  and  immobile,  and  as  he 
spoke  the  red  sun  made  a  sudden  glory  of  her  hair. 
She  leaned  towards  him,  and  it  was  as  if  the  spirit 
of  all  the  man's  lifelong,  foolish,  romantic  musings 
were  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  face. 

"Fight  him !"  she  said.    "And  kill  him !" 

And  then  her  head  was  on  his  shoulder,  and 
his  arms  were  about  her.  "Don't  die !"  she  sobbed. 
"Don't  die !" 

"Don't  fear,"  he  said,  "I  feel  that  I'll  make  short 
work  of  him." 

She  smiled  courageously  back  at  him;  with  her 
hands  upon  his  shoulders  she  held  him  back  and 
looked  at  him  with  trlted  head. 

278 


Cutlasses 


"If  you  are  killed,"  she  said,  "it  will  have  been 
more  than  most  women  ever  get,  to  have  known 
and  loved  you  for  two  days." 

"Two  days?"  he  said.     "Forever!" 

"Forever!"  she  said. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
THE  DUEL 

CLEGGETT  took  Wilton  Barnstable  by  the 
sleeve  and  drew  him  towards  Loge,  who, 
still  seated  on  the  deck  with  his  long  legs 
stretched  out  in  front  of  him,  was  now  yawning 
with  a  cynical  affectation  of  boredom. 

"I  wish  you  to  act  as  my  second  in  this  affair," 
said  Cleggett  to  the  detective,  "and  I  suggest  that 
either  Mr.  Ward  or  Mr.  Bard  perform  a  like  office 
for  Mr.  Black.'* 

Loge  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  with  a 
sneer : 

"A  second,  eh?  We  seem  to  be  doing  a  great 
deal  of  arranging  for  a  very  small  amount  of  fight 
ing." 

"I  suggest,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  "that  a 
night's  rest  would  be  quite  in  order  for  both  prin 
cipals." 

Loge  broke  in  quickly,  with  studied  insolence: 
"I  object  to  the  delay.  Mr.  Cleggett  might  find 

280 


The  Duel 


some  excuse  for  changing  his  mind  overnight.    Let 
us,  if  you  please,  begin  at  once." 

"It  was  not  I  who  suggested  the  delay,"  said 
Cleggett,  haughtily. 

''Then  give  us  the  pistols,"  cried  Loge,  with  a 
sudden,  grim  ferocity  in  his  voice,  "and  let's  make 
an  end  of  it !" 

"We  fight  with  swords,"  said  Cleggett.  "I  am 
the  challenged  party." 

"Ho!  Swords!"  cried  Loge,  with  a  harsh,  jar 
ring  laugh.  "A  bout  with  the  rapiers,  man  to  man, 
eh?  Come,  this  is  better  and  better!  I  may  go  to 
the  chair,  but  first  I  will  spit  you  like  a  squab  on  a 
skewer,  my  little  nut!"  And  then  he  said  again, 
with  a  shout  of  gusty  mirth,  and  a  clanking  of  his 
manacles:  "Swords,  eh?  By  God!  The  little  man 
says  swords!" 

Wilton  Barnstable  drew  Cleggett  to  one  side. 

"Name  pistols,"  he  said.  "For  God's  sake,  Cleg 
gett,  name  pistols!  If  I  had  had  any  idea  that  you 
were  going  to  demand  rapiers  I  should  have  warned 
you  before." 

Cleggett  was  amused  at  the  great  detective's 
anxiety.  "It  appears  that  the  fellow  handles  the 
rapier  pretty  well,  eh?"  he  said  easily. 

281 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Cleggett "  began  Barnstable.  And  then  he 

paused  and  groaned  and  mopped  his  brow.  Pres 
ently  he  controlled  his  agitation  and  continued. 
"Cleggett,"  he  said,  "the  man  is  an  expert  swords 
man.  I  have  been  on  his  trail ;  I  know  his  life  for 
years  past.  He  was  once  a  maitre  d'armes.  He 
gave  lessons  in  the  art." 

"Yes?"  said  Cleggett,  laughing  and  flexing  his 
wrist.  "I  am  glad  to  hear  that!  It  will  be  really 
interesting  then." 

"Cleggett,"  said  Barnstable,  "I  beg  of  you — name 
pistols.  This  is  the  man  who  invented  that  diabol 
ical  thrust  with  which  Georges  Clemenceau  laid  low 
so  many  of  his  political  opponents.  If  you  must 
go  on  with  this  mad  duel,  name  pistols!" 

"Barnstable,"  said  Cleggett,  "I  know  what  I  am 
about,  believe  me.  Your  anxiety  does  me  little 
honor,  but  I  am  willing  to  suppose  that  you  are 
not  deliberately  insulting,  and  I  pass  it  over.  I 
intend  to  kill  this  man.  It  is  a  duty  which  I  owe 
to  society.  And  as  for  the  rapier — believe  me,  Barn- 
stable,  I  am  no  novice.  And  my  blood  tingles 
and  my  soul  aches  with  the  desire  to  expunge  that 
man  from  life  with  my  own  hand.  Come,  we  have 
talked  enough.  There  is  a  case  of  swords  in  the 

282 


The  Duel 


cabin.    Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  bring  them  on 
deck?" 

Loge's  irons  were  unlocked.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
and  stretched  himself.  He  removed  his  coat  and 
waistcoat.  Then  he  took  off  his  shirt,  revealing 
the  fact  that  he  wore  next  his  skin  a  long-sleeved 
undershirt  of  red  flannel. 

Cleggett  began  to  imitate  him.  But  as  the  com 
mander  of  the  Jasper  B.  began  to  pull  his  shirt  over 
his  head  he  heard  a  little  scream.  Everyone  turned 
in  the  direction  from  which  it  had  emanated.  They 
beheld  Miss  Genevieve  Pringle  perched  upon  the 
top  of  the  cabin,  whither  she  had  mounted  by  means 
of  a  short  ladder.  This  lady,  perhaps  not  quite 
aware  of  the  possibly  sanguinary  character  of  the 
spectacle  she  was  about  to  witness,  had,  neverthe 
less,  sensed  the  fact  that  a  spectacle  was  toward. 
Miss  Pringle  had  with  her  a  handsome  lorgnette. 

"Madam,"  said  Cleggett,  hastily  pulling  his  shirt 
back  on  again  and  approaching  the  cabin,  "did  you 
cry  out?" 

"Mr. — er — Cleggett,"  said  Miss  Pringle,  pursing 
her  lips,  "if  you  will  kindly  hold  the  ladder  for  me 
I  think  I  will  descend  and  retire  at  once  to  the 
cabin." 

283 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"As  you  wish,"  said  Cleggett  politely,  complying 
with  her  wish,  but  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  her. 

"I  beg  you  to  believe,  Mr.  Cleggett,"  said  Miss 
Pringle,  averting  her  face  and  flushing  painfully, 
while  she  turned  the  lorgnette  about  and  about  with 
embarrassed  fingers,  "I  beg  you  to  believe  that  in 
electing  to  witness  this  spectacle  I  had  no  idea  of 
its  exceedingly  informal  nature." 

With  these  words  she  passed  into  the  cabin,  with 
the  air  of  one  who  has  sustained  a  mortal  insult. 

"Ef  you  was  to  ask  me  what  she's  tryin'  to  get 
at,"  piped  up  Cap'n  Abernethy,  "I'd  say  it's  her  be 
lief  that  it  ain't  proper  for  gents  to  sword  each  other 
with  their  shirts  off.  She's  shocked,  Miss  Pringle 
is." 

"In  great  and  crucial  moments,"  said  Cleggett 
soberly,  pulling  off  his  shirt  again  and  picking  up  a 
sword,  "we  may  dispense  with  the  minor  conven 
tions  without  apology." 

Loge  chose  a  weapon  with  the  extreme  of  care 
and  particularity,  trying  the  hang  and  balance  of 
several  of  them.  He  looked  well  to  the  weight, 
bent  the  blade  in  his  hands  to  test  the  spring  and 
temper,  tried  the  point  upon  his  thumb.  He  handled 
the  rapier  as  if  he  had  found  an  old  friend  again 

284 


The  Duel 


after  a  long  absence;  he  looked  around  upon  his 
enemies  with  a  sort  of  ferocious,  bantering  gayety. 

"And  now,"  said  Loge,  "if  this  is  to  be  a  duel 
indeed,  Mr.  Cleggett  and  I  will  need  plenty  of  room. 
I  suggest  that  the  rest  of  you  retire  to  the  bulwarks 
and  give  us  the  deck  to  ourselves." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Cleggett,  "I  order  it." 

"And,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  drawing  his  pis 
tol,  "Mr.  Black  will  please  note  that  while  I  am 
standing  by  the  bulwarks  I  shall  be  watching  indeed. 
Should  he  make  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the 
vessel  I  shall  riddle  him  with  bullets." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Loge,  "all  this  conversation 
is  a  waste  of  time!" 

"That  is  my  opinion  also,"  said  Cleggett. 

They  saluted  formally,  and  engaged  their  blades. 

With  Cleggett,  swordsmanship  was  both  a  science 
and  an  art.  And  something  more.  It  was  also  a 
passion.  A  good  swordsman  can  be  made;  a  su 
perior  swordsman  may  be  born ;  the  real  masters  are 
both  born  and  made.  It  was  so  with  Cleggett. 
His  interest  in  fencing  had  been  keen  from  his  early 
boyhood.  In  his  teens  he  had  acquired  unusual 
practical  skill  without  great  theoretical  knowledge. 
Then  he  had  recognized  the  art  for  what  it  is,  the 

285 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

most  beautiful  game  on  earth,  and  had  made  a  pro 
found  and  thorough  study  of  it;  it  appealed  to 
his  imagination. 

He  became,  in  a  way,  the  poet  of  the  foil. 

Cleggett  seldom  fenced  publicly,  and  then  only 
under  an  assumed  name ;  he  abhorred  publicity.  But 
there  was  not  a  teacher  in  New  York  City  who 
did  not  know  him  for  a  master.  They  brought  him 
their  half  worked  out  visions  of  new  combinations, 
new  thrusts;  he  perfected  them,  and  simplified,  or 
elaborated,  and  gave  back  the  finished  product. 

They  were  the  workmen,  the  craftsmen,  the  men 
of  talent;  he  was  the  originator,  the  genius. 

And  he  was  especially  lucky  in  not  having  been 
tied  down,  in  his  younger  years,  to  one  national 
tradition  of  the  art.  The  limitations  of  the  French, 
the  Spanish,  the  Italian,  or  the  Austrian  schools  had 
not  enslaved  him  in  youth  and  hampered  the  free 
development  of  his  individuality.  He  had  studied 
them  all ;  he  chose  from  them  all  their  superiorities ; 
their  excellences  he  blended  into  a  system  of  his 
own. 

It  might  be  called  the  Cleggett  System. 

The  Frenchman  is  an  intellectual  swordsman ;  the 
basis  of  his  art  is  a  thorough  knowledge  of  its 

286 


The  Duel 


mathematics.  Upon  this  foundation  he  superim 
poses  a  structure  of  audacity.  But  he  often  falls 
into  one  error  or  another,  for  all  his  mental  bril 
liancy.  He  may  become  rigidly  formal  in  his  prac 
tice,  or,  in  a  revolt  from  his  own  formalism,  be 
seduced  into  a  display  of  showy,  sensational  tricks 
that  are  all  very  well  in  the  studio  but  dangerous 
to  their  practitioner  on  the  actual  dueling  ground. 

The  Italian,  looser,  freer,  less  formal,  more  in 
dividual  in  his  style,  springing  from  a  line  of  for 
bears  who  have  preferred  the  thrust  to  the  cut,  the 
point  to  the  edge,  for  centuries,  is  a  more  instinctive 
and  less  intellectual  swordsman  than  the  French 
man.  It  is  in  his  blood;  he  uses  his  rapier  with  a 
wild  and  angry  grace  that  is  feline. 

The  Frenchman,  even  when  he  is  thoroughly 
serious  in  his  desire  to  slay,  loves  a  duel  for  its  own 
sake;  he  is  never  free  from  the  thought  of  the  pic 
ture  he  is  making;  the  art,  the  science,  the  practical 
cleverness,  appeal  to  him  independently  of  the  blood 
shed. 

The  Italian  thinks  of  but  one  thing;  to  kill.  He 
will  take  a  severe  wound  to  give  a  fatal  one.  The 
French  are  the  best  fencers  in  the  world ;  the  Italians 
the  deadliest  duelists. 

287 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

Cleggett,  as  has  been  said,  knew  all  the  schools 
without  being  the  slave  of  any  of  them. 

He  brought  his  sword  en  tierce;  Loge's  blade 
met  his  with  strength  and  delicacy.  The  strength 
Cleggett  was  prepared  for.  The  delicacy  surprised 
him.  But  he  was  too  much  the  master,  too  con 
fident  of  his  own  powers,  to  trifle.  He  delivered 
one  of  his  favorite  thrusts;  it  was  a  stroke  of  his 
own  invention;  three  times  out  of  five,  in  years 
past,  it  had  carried  home  the  button  of  his  foil  to 
his  opponent's  jacket.  It  was  executed  with  the 
directness  and  rapidity  of  a  flash  of  lightning. 

But  Loge  parried  it  with  a  neatness  which  made 
Cleggett  open  his  eyes,  replying  with  a  counter  so 
shrewd  and  close,  and  of  such  a  darting  ferocity, 
that  Cleggett,  although  he  met  it  faultlessly,  never 
theless  gave  back  a  step. 

"Ah,"  cried  Loge,  showing  his  yellow  teeth  in 
a  grin,  "so  the  little  man  knows  that  thrust !" 

"I  invented  it,"  said  Cleggett. 

With  the  word  he  pressed  forward  and,  making 
a  swift  and  dazzling  feint,  followed  it  with  two 
brilliant  thrusts,  either  of  which  would  have  meant 
the  death  of  a  tyro.  The  first  one  Loge  parried; 
the  second  touched  him;  but  it  gave  him  nothing 

288 


The  Duel 


more  than  a  scratch.  Nevertheless,  the  smile  faded 
from  Loge's  face ;  he  gave  ground  in  his  turn  before 
this  rapid  vigor  of  attack;  he  measured  Cleggett 
with  a  new  glance. 

"You  are  touched,  I  think,"  said  Cleggett,  medi 
tating  a  fresh  combination,  "and  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  drop  that  ugly  pretense  at  a  grin.  You  have 
no  idea  how  the  sight  of  those  yellow  teeth  of  yours, 
which  you  were  evidently  never  taught  to  brush 
when  you  were  a  little  boy,  offends  a  person  of  any 
refinement." 

Loge's  answer  was  a  sudden  attempt  to  twist  his 
blade  around  Cleggett's ;  followed  by  a  direct  thrust, 
as  quick  as  light,  which  grazed  Cleggett's  shoulder ; 
a  little  smudge  of  blood  appeared  on  his  undershirt. 

"Take  care,  take  care,  Cleggett!"  warned  Wilton 
Barnstable,  from  his  post  by  the  starboard  bulwark. 

"Make  yourself  easy,"  said  Cleggett,  parrying  a 
counter  en  carte,  "I  am  only  getting  warm." 

And  both  of  them,  stung  by  the  slight  scratches 
which  they  had  received,  settled  to  the  business  with 
an  intent  and  silent  deadliness  of  purpose. 

To  all  appearances  Loge  had  an  immense  advan 
tage  over  Cleggett ;  his  legs  were  a  good  two  inches 
longer;  so  were  his  arms.  And  he  knew  how  to 

289 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

make  these  peculiarities  count.  He  fought  for  a 
while  with  a  calm  and  steady  precision  that  re 
peatedly  baffled  the  calculated  impetuosity  of  Cleg- 
gett's  attack.  But  the  air  of  bantering  certainty 
with  which  he  had  begun  the  duel  had  left  him. 
He  no  longer  wasted  his  breath  on  repartee;  no 
doubt  he  was  surprised  to  find  Cleggett's  strength 
so  nearly  equal  to  his  own,  as  Cleggett  had  been 
astonished  to  find  in  Loge  so  much  finesse.  But 
with  a  second  slight  wound  Loge  began  to  give 
ground. 

With  Cleggett  a  bout  with  the  foils  had  always 
been  a  duel.  It  has  been  indicated,  we  believe,  that 
he  was  of  a  romantic  disposition  and  much  given 
to  daydreaming;  his  imagination  had  thus  made 
every  set-to  in  the  fencing  room  a  veritable  mortal 
combat  to  him.  Therefore,  this  was  not  his  first 
duel;  he  had  fought  hundreds  of  them.  And  he 
fought  always  on  a  settled  plan,  adapting  it,  of 
course,  to  the  idiosyncrasies  of  his  adversary.  It 
was  his  custom  to  vary  the  system  of  his  attack 
frequently  in  the  most  disconcerting  manner,  at  the 
same  time  steadily  increasing  the  pace  at  which  he 
fought.  And  when  Loge  began  to  give  ground  and 
breathe  a  little  harder,  Cleggett,  far  from  taking 

290 


The  Duel 


advantage  of  his  opponent's  growing  distress  to  rest 
himself,  as  a  less  distinguished  swordsman  might 
have  done,  redoubled  the  vigor  of  his  assault.  Cleg- 
gett  knew  that  sooner  or  later  a  winded  man  makes 
a  fault.  The  lungs  labor  and  fail  to  give  the  blood 
all  the  oxygen  it  needs.  The  circulation  suffers. 
Nerves  and  muscles  are  no  longer  the  perfect  serv 
ants  of  the  brain;  for  a  fraction  of  a  second  the 
sword  deviates  from  the  proper  line. 

It  was  for  this  that  Cleggett  waited,  pressing 
Loge  closer  and  closer,  alert  for  the  instant  when 
Loge  would  fence  wide ;  waxing  as  the  other  waned ; 
menacing  eyes,  throat,  and  heart  with  a  point  that 
leaped  and  dazzled ;  and  at  the  same  time  inclosing 
himself  within  a  rampart  of  steel  which  Loge  found 
it  more  and  more  hopeless  to  attempt  to  penetrate. 
It  was  as  if  Cleggett's  blade  were  an  extension  of 
his  will ;  he  and  his  sword  were  not  two  things,  but 
one.  The  metal  in  his  hand  was  no  longer  merely 
a  whip  of  steel ;  it  was  a  thing  that  lived  with  his 
own  life.  His  pulse  beat  in  it.  It  was  a  part  of  him. 
His  nervous  force  permeated  it  and  animated  it; 
it  was  his  thought  turned  to  tempered  metal,  and 
it  was  with  the  rapidity,  directness  and  subtlety  of 
thought  that  his  sword  responded  to  his  mind. 

291 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Come!"  said  Cleggett,  as  Loge  broke  ground, 
scarcely  aware  that  he  spoke  aloud.  "At  this  rate 
we  shall  be  at  home  thrusts  soon!" 

Loge  must  have  thought  so  too;  a  shade  passed 
over  his  face,  his  upper  lip  lifted  haggardly.  Per 
haps  even  that  iron  nature  was  beginning  to  feel  at 
last  something  of  the  dull  sickness  which  is  the  fear 
of  death.  He  retreated  continually,  and  Cleggett 
was  smitten  with  the  fancy  to  force  him  backward 
and  nail  him,  with  a  final  thrust,  to  the  stump  of 
the  foremast,  which  had  been  broken  off  some  eight 
feet  above  the  deck. 

But  Loge,  gathering  his  power,  made  a  brilliant 
and  desperate  rally ;  twice  he  grazed  Cleggett,  whose 
blade  was  too  closely  engaged;  and  then  suddenly 
broke  ground  again.  This  time  Cleggett  perceived 
that  he  had  been  retreating  in  accordance  with  a 
preconceived  program.  He  was  certain  the  man 
contemplated  a  trick,  perhaps  some  foul  stroke. 

He  rushed  forward  with  a  terrible  thrust.  Loge, 
whose  last  maneuver  had  taken  him  within  a  yard 
of  the  hatchway  opening  into  the  hold,  grasped 
Cleggett's  blade  in  his  left  hand,  and  at  the  same 
instant  flung  his  own  sword,  hilt  first,  full  in  Cleg 
gett's  face.  As  Cleggett,  struck  in  the  mouth  with 

292 


The  Duel 


the  pommel,  staggered  back,  Loge  plunged  feet  fore 
most  into  the  hold.  It  was  too  unexpected,  and  too 
quickly  done,  for  a  shot  from  Barnstable  or  any 
of  Cleggett's  men. 

Cleggett,  with  the  blood  streaming  from  his 
mouth,  recovered  himself  and  leaped  through  the 
aperture  in  the  deck.  He  landed  upon  his  feet  with 
a  jar,  and,  shortening  his  sword  in  his  hand,  stared 
about  him  in  the  gloom. 

He  saw  no  one. 

An  instant  later  Wilton  Barnstable  and  Cap'n 
Abernethy  were  beside  him. 

"Gone!"  said  Cleggett  simply. 

Barnstable  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  electric 
lantern  and  swept  the  beam  in  a  circle  about  the 
hold.  Again  and  again  he  raked  the  darkness  until 
the  finger  of  light  had  rested  upon  every  foot  of  the 
interior. 

But  Loge  had  vanished  as  completely  as  a  snow- 
flake  that  falls  into  a  tub  of  water. 


CHAPTER    XXV 
THE  SECRET  OF  THE  VESSEL'S  HOLD 

IDIOT  that  I  am,"  cried  Cleggett,  "not  to  have 
covered  that  hole !"  His  chagrin  was  touching 
-  to  behold. 

"There,  there,  Cleggett,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable 
kindly,  "do  not  reproach  yourself  too  bitterly." 

"But  to  let  him  escape  when  I  had  him " 

Cleggett  finished  the  sentence  with  a  groan. 

But  Wilton  Barnstable  was  thinking. 

"Please  have  some  lights  brought  down  here  if 
you  will,  Captain,"  he  said  to  Abernethy,  "and  ask 
Mr.  Bard  and  Mr.  Ward  to  come." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  interior  of  the  hold  was 
illuminated  with  lanterns;  it  was  as  bright  as  day. 
But  the  detectives  did  not  proceed  at  once  to  a 
minute  examination  of  the  hold  as  Cleggett  had 
supposed  they  would. 

Instead,  they  stood  in  the  waist  of  the  vessel  and 
thought. 

Visibly  they  thought.  Wilton  Barnstable  thought. 
294 


The  Secret  of  the  Vessel's  Hold 

Barton  Ward  thought.  Watson  Bard  thought. 
They  thought  in  silence.  Cleggett  could  almost  feel 
these  three  master  brains  pulsating  in  unison,  work 
ing  in  rhythmic  accord,  there  in  the  silence;  the 
sense  of  this  intense  cerebral  effort  became  almost 
oppressive.  .  .  . 

Finally  Wilton  Barnstable  began  to  stroke  his 
mustache,  and  a  pleased  smile  stole  over  his  plump 
and  benign  visage.  Barton  Ward  also  began  to 
stroke  his  mustache  and  smile.  But  it  was  twenty 
seconds  more  before  Watson  Bard's  corrugated 
brow  relaxed  and  his  eyes  twinkled  with  the  idea 
that  had  come  so  much  more  readily  to  the  other 
two. 

"Cleggett,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  "you  have 
heard  of  the  deductive  method  as  applied  to  the 
work  of  the  detective?" 

"I  have,"  said  Cleggett.  "I  have  read  Poe's  de 
tective  tales  and  Doyle's  Sherlock  Holmes  stories." 

"Ah !  Sherlock  Holmes !"  The  three  detectives 
looked  at  each  other  with  glances  in  which  were 
mingled  both  bitterness  and  amusement;  the  look 
seemed  to  dispose  of  Sherlock  Holmes.  Once  again 
Cleggett  had  a  fleeting  thought  that  Wilton  Barn- 
stable  might  possibly  be  a  vain  man. 

295 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Sherlock  Holmes,"  said  Barnstable,  "never 
existed.  His  marvelous  feats  are  not  possible  in 
real  life,  Cleggett.  But  the  deductive  method  which 
he  pretended  to  use — mind  you,  I  say  pretended, 
Cleggett! — is,  nevertheless,  sound." 

And  then  the  three  detectives  gave  Cleggett  an 
example  of  their  phenomenal  cleverness. 

"Mr.  Ward,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable,  "Logan 
Black  entered  this  hold." 

"He  did,"  said  Barton  Ward. 

"He  is  not  here  now,"  said  Wilton  Barnstable. 

"He  is  not,"  said  Watson  Bard. 

"Therefore  he  has  escaped,"  said  Wilton  Barn- 
stable. 

"But  how?"  said  Barton  Ward. 

"Only  a  ghost  or  an  insect  could  leave  this  hold 
otherwise  than  by  the  hatchway,  to  all  appearances," 
said  Wilton  Barnstable. 

"Logan  Black  is  not  a  ghost,"  said  Barton  Ward 
firmly. 

"Logan  Black  is  not  an  insect,"  said  Watson 
Bard  with  conviction. 

"Then/*  said  Barnstable,  "that  eliminates  the 
supernatural  and  the — the " 

"The  entomological?"  suggested  Cleggett. 


The  Secret  of  the  Vessel's  Hold 

The  three  detectives  stared  at  him  fixedly  for  a 
moment,  as  if  surprised  at  the  interruption.  But 
if  they  were  miffed  they  were  too  dignified  to  do 
more  than  hint  it.  Barnstable  continued: 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  magic." 

'There  is  not,"  said  Ward. 

"The  fourth  dimension  does  not  exist,"  said 
Bard. 

"Therefore  Logan  Black's  exit,"  said  Barnstable, 
"was  in  accordance  with  well-known  physical  laws. 
We  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  he  made  his 
escape  through  a  secret  passageway." 

"A  tunnel,"  said  Barton  Ward. 

"With  a  concealed  door  opening  into  the  hold," 
said  Watson  Bard. 

"A  ship  with  a  secret  tunnel!"  cried  Cleggett. 
"Who  ever  heard  of  the  like?  Why,  the  thing 

But  he  broke  off.  He  had  been  leaning  against 
the  starboard  side  of  the  hold.  Even  as  he  spoke 
he  felt  the  wall  behind  him  moving.  He  turned. 
A  door  was  opening.  It  was  built  into  the  side  of 
the  Jasper  B.  and  the  joints  were  cleverly  con 
cealed.  He  had  inadvertently  found,  with  his  el 
bow,  the  nailhead  which  was  in  reality  the  push  but- 

297 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

ton  that  released  the  spring.  The  black  entrance 
of  a  subterranean  passage  yawned  before  him. 

He  stared  in  astonishment.  The  three  detectives 
were  pointing  at  the  tunnel  with  plump  forefingers 
and  bland,  triumphant  smiles. 

"Nothing  is  impossible,  my  dear  Cleggett,"  said 
Barnstable.  "The  tunnel  had  to  be  there!" 

"It  explains  everything,'*  said  Cleggett.  "But  a 
tunnel  into  my  ship !" 

And,  in  truth,  for  a  moment  he  felt  disappointed 
in  the  Jasper  B.  A  tunnel  is  all  very  well  leading 
from  the  basement  of  a  house,  or  extending  back 
ward  from  a  cave;  but  Cleggett  felt  that  it  was 
scarcely  a  dignified  sort  of  arrangement,  nautically 
speaking,  for  a  ship  to  have  leading  from  its  hold. 

It  seemed,  somehow,  to  stamp  the  Jasper  B.  in 
delibly  as  a  thing  of  the  land  rather  than  as  the 
gallant  creature  of  piping  winds  and  following  seas. 
Could  the  Jasper  B.f  a  bone  in  her  teeth  and  her 
tackle  humming,  ever  again  sail  through  Cleggett's 
dreams?  For  a  moment,  if  the  worst  must  be 
known,  he  was  almost  disgusted  with  the  Jasper  B., 
considered  as  a  ship.  For  a  moment  he  was  willing 
to  believe  that  Cap'n  Abernethy  was  nothing  but  a 
Long  Island  truck  farmer,  and  not  of  a  seafaring 

298 


The  Secret  of  the  Vessel's  Hold 

family  at  all.     For  a  moment  he  felt  himself  to  be 
a  copyreader  again  on  the  New  York  Enterprise. 

But  only  for  a  moment!  The  star  of  romance, 
clouded  temporarily  by  fact,  rose  serene  and  bright 
again  in  the  wide  heaven  of  that  unusual  spirit, 
the  barber's  basin  gleamed  once  more  the  helmet  of 
Alambrino.  Cleggett  began  to  see  the  matter  in  its 
proper  light. 

"A  tunnel!"  he  cried,  brightening,  and  looking 
at  it  with  his  legs  spread  a  little  wide  and  his  hands 
on  his  hips.  "A  tunnel !  Eh,  by  gad !  Who  could 
have  prophesied  a  tunnel?  Barnstable,  never  tell 
me  again  there  is  no  romance  in  real  life!  I  tell 
you,  Barnstable,  she's  a  good  old  ship,  the  Jasper  B.I 
I  don't  suppose  there  was  ever  another  schooner 
in  the  world  with  a  secret  passageway  leading  out 
of  her  hold!" 

"She  is  a  remarkable  vessel,"  agreed  Wilton 
Barnstable  gravely.  "But,  come,  we  are  wasting 
time!  The  other  end  of  this  passage  is  at  Morris's, 
that  is  plain.  Loge  Black  has  only  a  few  minutes' 
start  of  us.  Therefore,  to  Morris's!" 


CHAPTER    XXVI 
A  DOG  DIES  GAME 

CLAMBERING  out  of  the  hold,  the  three 
detectives  and  Cleggett  briefly  made  their 
followers  acquainted  with  the  extraordi 
nary  turn  of  events.    The  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop,  Miss 
Pringle's  Jefferson,  and  Washington  Artillery  Lamb 
were  detailed  to  guard  the  Jasper  B.  end  of  the 
tunnel.    The  others,  seizing  their  rifles,  raced  across 
the  sands  towards  Morris's. 

In  a  few  moments  the  place  was  invested,  with 
riflemen  on  every  side  except  the  south,  which 
fronted  on  the  bay.  The  steel- jacketed  bullets  from 
the  high-power  guns  tore  through  and  through  the 
flimsy  walls.  Nevertheless  the  defenders  replied 
pluckily,  and  the  siege  might  have  dragged  on  for 
hours  had  it  not  been  for  the  courage  and  resource 
of  Kuroki.  Gaining  the  stable,  Kuroki  found  an 
old  pushcart  there.  He  piled  three  bales  of  hay 
upon  it,  and  then  set  fire  to  the  hay.  Pushing  the 
cart  before  him,  and  crouching  behind  the  bales  to 

300 


A  Dog  Dies  Game 


protect  himself  from  revolver  shots,  he  worked  his 
way  to  the  east  verandah  of  the  building  and  left 
the  hay  blazing  against  the  planks.  Then  he  ran  as 
if  the  devil  were  after  him,  and  was  almost  out  of 
pistol  shot  before  he  got  a  bullet  in  the  calf  of  his 
leg. 

The  blaze  caught  the  wood  and  spread.  In  two 
minutes  the  east  verandah  was  in  flames.  Loge  and 
his  men  attempted  to  pour  water  on  the  blaze  from 
above.  But  Cleggett's  party  directed  so  hot  a  fire 
upon  the  windows  that  the  defenders  were  forced  to 
retire. 

The  main  building  caught.  The  road  house 
was  old,  and  was  of  very  light  construction; 
the  fire  spread  with  rapidity.  Loge  was  in  a 
trap. 

But  that  evil  and  indomitable  spirit  refused  to 
yield.  Even  when  his  remaining  ruffians  came 
out  and  gave  themselves  up  Loge  still  fought  on 
alone  in  a  sullen  fury  of  despair. 

Reckless  of  bullets,  he  leaned  from  an  open  win 
dow,  a  figure  not  without  its  grandeur  against  the 
background  of  smoke  and  flame,  and  shouted  a 
savage  and  obscene  insult  at  Cleggett. 

"Give  yourself  up,"  cried  Wilton  Batnstable. 
30? 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

"Damn  it,  man,  anything's  better  than  roasting  to 
death!" 

Loge  raised  his  hand  and  sped  a  last  bullet  at 
the  detective,  grazing  Barnstable's  temple. 

"Come  in  and  get  me !"  he  shouted. 

Barnstable  fired,  just  as  a  whirl  of  smoke  blew  in 
front  of  Loge.  Cleggett  thought  the  outlaw  stag 
gered,  but  he  was  not  certain. 

A  moment  later  a  portion  of  the  roof  fell;  then 
the  east  wall  crashed  in.  Morris's  was  a  blazing 
ruin. 

"He  has  perished  in  the  flames,"  said  Wilton 
Barnstable.  "So  ends  Logan  Black!" 

"More  like  he's  blowed  his  head  off,"  said  Cap'n 
Abernethy.  "If  you  was  to  ask  me,  that's  what  Fd 
do." 

"He  has  done  neither !"  cried  Cleggett.  "He  has 
taken  to  the  tunnel.  That  man  will  fight  to  the 
last  breath." 

And  without  waiting  to  see  whether  the  others 
followed  him  or  not  Cleggett  set  off  at  top  speed  for 
the  Jasper  B. 

With  a  dagger  between  his  teeth,  his  pistol  in 
its  holster,  and  his  electric,  watchman's  lantern  in 
his  pocket  he  entered  the  tunnel  and  crawled  for- 

302 


A  Dog  Dies  Game 


ward  on  his  hands  and  knees.  If  Loge  were  in  there 
indeed  he  had  the  fire  at  one  end  and  Cleggett  at 
the  other.  But  even  at  that,  escape  was  possible, 
for  all  Cleggett  knew.  What  ramifications  this 
peculiar  passageway  might  have  he  could  not  guess. 

The  place  was  narrow,  and  in  spots  so  low  that  it 
was  necessary  for  a  man  to  crouch  almost  to  the 
ground.  Cleggett,  because  he  did  not  wish  to  reveal 
his  presence,  did  not  flash  his  lantern;  there  were 
stretches  where  he  might  have  stood  almost  erect 
and  made  quicker  progress,  if  he  had  found  them 
with  the  light.  The  earth  beneath  him  was  beaten 
hard  and  smooth. 

Cleggett  thought  possibly  that  the  tunnel  had 
originally  led  from  Morris's  basement  to  the  smug- 
lers'  cave  which  Wilton  Barnstable  had  spoken  of, 
and  that  it  had  been  extended  later  to  the  ship.  He 
learned  afterwards  that  this  was  true  from  the 
men  who  had  surrendered.  The  Jasper  B.  had  been 
abandoned  for  so  long,  and  was  so  completely  aban 
doned  except  for  the  visits  of  Cap'n  Abernethy, 
who  fished  from  it  now  and  then,  that  Loge  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  making  it  the  backdoor,  so 
to  speak,  of  Morris's.  In  the  event  of  a  raid  upon 
Morris's  his  "get-away"  through  the  hulk  was  pro- 

303 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

vided  for.     He  had  intended  buying  the  ship  him 
self;  but  Cleggett  had  forestalled  him. 

From  the  prisoners  Cleggett  also  learned  later 
that  two  men  had  been  concerned  in  the  explosion 
which  had  broken  the  big  rocks  on  the  plain.  One 
of  them  had  won  the  Claiborne  signet  ring  at  poker 
after  Reginald  Maltravers  had  been  stripped  of  his 
valuables,  and  had  worn  it.  They  had  been  dis 
patched  with  a  bomb  each,  which  they  were  to  in 
troduce  into  the  hold  of  the  Jasper  B.,  retiring 
through  the  tunnel  after  they  had  started  the  clock 
work  mechanism  going.  It  was  known  that  one 
of  them  owed  the  other  money ;  they  had  been  quar 
reling  about  it  as  they  entered  the  tunnel  from  the 
cellar  of  Morris's.  It  was  conjectured  that  the 
quarrel  had  progressed  and  that  the  debtor  had  en 
deavored,  by  the  light  of  his  pocket  lantern  in  the 
tunnel,  to  palm  off  a  counterfeit  bill  in  settlement 
of  the  debt.  This  may  have  led  to  a  blow,  or  more 
likely  only  to  an  argument  during  which  a  bomb  was 
dropped  and  exploded,  followed  quickly  by  the  other 
explosion.  Dead  hand,  counterfeit  bill  and  ring 
were  flung  whimsically  to  the  surface  of  the  earth 
together,  and  the  leaning  rocks  had  been  astonish 
ingly  broken  from  beneath  through  this  trivial 

304 


A  Dog  Dies  Game 


rel.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  squabble  the  Jasper  B. 
and  all  on  board  must  have  been  destroyed.  Verily, 
the  minds  of  wicked  men  compass  their  own  down 
fall,  and  retribution  can  sometimes  be  an  artist. 

But  Cleggett,  as  he  crawled  forward  through  the 
darkness  and  the  damp,  thought  little  of  these 
things  that  had  so  mystified  him  at  the  time.  He 
was  alert  for  what  the  immediate  future  might 
hold,  not  doubting  that  Loge  had  retreated  to  the 
tunnel.  He  had  too  strong  a  sense  of  the  man's 
powerful  and  iniquitous  personality  to  suppose  that 
Loge  would  kill  himself  while  one  chance  remained, 
however  remote,  of  injuring  his  enemies.  Loge 
was  the  kind  of  dog  that  dies  biting. 

Suddenly,  after  pressing  forward  for  several 
minutes,  he  ran  against  an  obstruction.  The  tunnel 
seemed  to  come  to  an  end.  He  did  not  dare  show 
his  light.  But  he  felt  with  his  hands.  It  was  rock 
that  blocked  his  way.  Cleggett  understood  that  this 
barrier  was  the  result  of  the  explosion.  Groping 
and  exploring  with  his  hands,  he  found  that  the 
passage  turned  sharply  to  the  left.  It  was  more 
narrow  and  curving,  for  the  distance  of  a  few 
yards,  and  the  earth  beneath  was  fresher.  When 
the  tunnel  had  been  blocked  by  the  explosion,  Loge 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

and  his  men  had  burrowed  around  the  obstruction. 

Cleggett  judged  that  he  must  be  at  about  the 
middle  of  the  tunnel.  He  felt  the  more  solid  earth 
beneath  his  hands  again,  and  knew  that  he  had 
passed  the  rock.  The  passage  now  descended  deeper 
into  the  ground,  slanting  steeply  downward.  This 
incline  was  twenty  feet  in  length;  then  the  floor 
became  horizontal  again  on  the  lower  level.  At 
the  same  time  the  passage  widened.  Cleggett 
stretched  one  arm  out,  then  the  other ;  he  could  not 
touch  the  wall  on  either  hand.  He  stood  erect  and 
held  his  hand  up ;  the  roof  was  six  inches  above  his 
head.  He  was  in  a  room  of  some  sort.  Wishing, 
if  possible,  to  learn  the  extent  of  this  subterranean 
chamber,  which  he  did  not  doubt  had  at  one  time 
been  used  as  a  cave  and  storehouse  of  smugglers, 
Cleggett  began  to  sidle  around  the  walls,  feeling  his 
way  with  his  hands. 

He  dislodged  a  pebble.  It  rolled  to  the  ground 
with  what  was  really  a  slight  sound. 

But  to  Cleggett,  who  had  been  getting  more  and 
more  excited,  it  was  loud  as  an  avalanche.  He 
stopped  and  held  his  breath ;  he  fancied  that  he  had 
heard  another  noise  besides  the  one  which  his  pebble 
made.  But  he  could  not  be  sure, 

306 


A  Dog  Dies  Game. 


The  sensation  that  he  was  not  alone  suddenly 
gripped  him  with  overwhelming  force.  His  heart 
began  to  beat  more  quickly;  the  blood  drummed  in 
his  ears.  Nevertheless,  he  kept  his  head.  He  took 
his  pocket  lantern  in  his  left  hand,  and  his  pistol 
in  his  right,  and  leaned  with  his  back  against  the 
wall.  He  listened.  He  heard  nothing. 

But  the  eerie  feeling  that  he  was  watched  grew 
upon  him.  Presently  he  fancied  that  the  darkness 
began  to  vibrate,  as  if  an  electrical  current  of  some 
sort  were  being  passed  through  it,  and  it  might 
forthwith  burst  into  light.  Cleggett,  as  we  know, 
was  not  easily  frightened.  But  now  he  was  pos 
sessed  of  a  strange  feeling,  akin  to  terror,  but 
which  was  at  the  same  time  not  any  terror  of 
physical  injury.  He  did  not  fear  Loge;  in  dark 
or  daylight  he  was  ready  to  grapple  with  him  and 
fight  it  out;  nevertheless  he  feared.  That  he 
could  not  say  what  he  feared  only  increased  his 
fear. 

Children  say  they  are  "afraid  of  the  dark."  It 
is  not  the  dark  which  they  are  afraid  of.  It  is  the 
bodiless  presences  which  they  imagine  in  the  dark. 
It  was  so  with  Cleggett  now.  He  was  not  daunted 
by  anything  that  could  strike  a  blow.  But  the  sense 

307 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

of  a  personality  began  to  encompass  him.  It  pressed 
in  upon  him,  played  upon  him,  embraced  him;  his 
flesh  tingled  as  if  he  were  being  brushed;  he  felt 
his  hair  stir.  One  recognizes  a  flower  by  its  odor. 
So  a  soul  flings  off,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  the 
sense  of  itself.  This  force  that  laid  itself  upon 
Cleggett  and  flowed  around  him  had  an  individual 
ity  without  a  body.  Not  through  his  senses,  but 
psychically,  he  recognized  it ;  it  was  the  hateful  and 
sinister  individuality  of  Loge. 

With  choking  throat  and  dry  lips  Cleggett  stood 
and  suffered  beneath  the  smothering  presence  of  this 
terror  while  the  slow  seconds  mounted  to  an  intoler 
able  minute;  then  there  burst  from  him  an  uncon 
trollable  shout. 

"Loge !"  he  roared,  and  the  cavern  rang. 

And  with  the  word  he  pressed  the  button  of  his 
electric  pocket  lamp  and  shot  a  beam  of  light  straight 
in  front  of  him.  It  fell  upon  the  yellowish  brow 
and  the  wide,  unwinking  eyes  of  Loge.  The  eyes 
stared  straight  at  Cleggett's  own  from  across  the 
cave,  thirty  feet  away.  Loge's  teeth  were  bared  in 
his  malevolent  grimace ;  his  head  was  bent  forward ; 
he  sat  upon  a  rock.  Cleggett,  unable  to  withdraw 
his  eyes,  waited  for  Loge's  first  movement.  The 

308 


A  Dog  Dies  Game 


man  made  no  sign.  Cleggett  slowly  raised  his  pis 
tol.  .  .  . 

But  he  did  not  fire.  The  open,  staring  eyes,  un 
changing  at  the  menace  of  the  lifted  pistol,  told 
the  story.  Loge  was  dead.  Cleggett  crossed  over 
and  examined  him.  Clutched  on  his  knees  was  a 
bomb.  He  had  been  wounded  by  Barnstable's  last 
shot,  but  he  had  crawled  through  the  tunnel  with  a 
bomb  for  a  final  attempt  on  the  Jasper  B,  His 
strength  had  failed;  he  had  rested  upon  the  rock 
and  bled  to  death. 

As  for  his  last  thought,  Cleggett  had  felt  it. 
Loge  had  died  hating  and  lusting  for  his  blood. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 
CLEGGETT  ACCOMMODATES  THE  KING 

THERE  was  a  wedding  next  day  on  the  deck 
of  the  Jasper  B.  The  Rev.  Simeon  Cal- 
throp  performed  the  ceremony,  and  Wil 
ton  Barnstable  insisted  upon  lending  his  vessel  for 
a  bridal  cruise.  Washington  Artillery  Lamb,  en 
gineer,  janitor,  cook  and  butler  of  the  Annabel  Lee, 
went  with  the  vessel. 

As  for  the  Jasper  B.,  although  his  wife  urged 
him  to  keep  the  ship  for  the  sake  of  old  associa 
tions,  Cleggett  had  the  hole  in  its  side  built  in  and 
gave  it  to  the  Rev.  Simeon  Calthrop  for  a  gospel 
ship.  George  the  Greek,  who  married  Miss  Medley, 
shipped  with  the  preacher  in  his  cruise  around  the 
world,  and  he  and  his  wife  eventually  reached 
Greece,  as  he  had  originally  intended.  Elmer  went 
with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  to  assist  him  in  his 
missionary  work. 

But  it  was  some  time  before  the  Jasper  B.  sailed. 
Besides  the  hole  which  was  the  entrance  to  the 

310 


Cleggett  Accommodates  the  King 

tunnel  it  was  discovered  that  the  vessel  rested  on 
a  brick  foundation.  The  man  who  had  used  her 
for  a  saloon  and  dancing  platform  in  years  past 
had  dug  away  part  of  the  bank  of  the  canal  to  fit 
the  curve  of  her  starboard  side  and  had  then  jammed 
her  tight  into  the  land.  Even  then  she  would  move 
a  trifle  at  times,  so  he  had  built  a  dam  around  her, 
pumped  the  water  out  of  the  inclosed  space,  jacked 
the  hulk  up,  built  the  brick  foundation,  and  let 
her  down  solidly  on  it  again.  With  the  dam  re 
moved  the  water  covered  this  masonry  work,  and 
she  looked  quite  like  a  real  ship.  Mr.  Goldberg  had 
known  about  this  foundation,  but  he  had  forgotten 
it,  he  explained  to  Cleggett 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Calthrop  fitted  her  out  as  a  floating 
chapel  and  filled  her  with  Bibles  printed  in  all  lan 
guages,  which  he  distributes  in  many  lands.  When 
his  fatal  attractiveness  for  women  threatens  to 
involve  him  in  trouble  he  hastily  puts  to  sea.  He 
has  never  become  a  really  accomplished  sailor,  and 
the  Jasper  B.  is  something  of  a  menace  to  naviga 
tion  in  the  ports  and  harbors  of  the  world.  The 
suggestion  has  frequently  been  made  that  she  should 
be  set  ashore  permanently  and  put  on  wheels.  But 
she  has  her  features.  She  is,  possibly,  the  only  ship 

3" 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

extant  with  a  memorial  skylight  to  her  cabin.  Cleg- 
gett  wished  her  to  carry  some  sort  of  memorial  to 
the  faithful  Teddy,  the  Pomeranian  dog,  who  per 
ished  of  a  stray  shot  in  the  fight  at  Morris's.  And 
as  a  memorial  window  did  not  seem  feasible  a 
compromise  was  made  on  the  memorial  skylight. 
The  glass  is  by  Tiffany. 

Dopey  Eddie  and  Izzy  the  Cat,  still  followed  by 
Reginald  Maltravers,  made  their  way  to  Brooklyn, 
where  all  three  were  arrested  and  lodged  in  the 
observation  ward  of  the  Kings  County  Hospital  on 
the  suspicion  that  they  were  insane.  The  two  gun 
men  were  able  to  get  free  through  political  influ 
ence,  but  Maltravers  was  sent  to  England.  He  was 
maintained  for  some  time  in  a  private  institution 
through  the  generosity  of  the  Cleggetts,  but  finally 
went  on  a  hunger  strike  and  died. 

Wilton  Barnstable  smiles  and  prospers.  He 
gained  great  additional  fame  for  his  clever  work  in 
the  Case  of  Logan  Black. 

Cleggett,  in  1925,  was  the  father  of  four  boys 
named  D'Artagnan,  Athos,  Porthos,  and  Aramis 
Cleggett;  and  the  owner  of  the  Claiborne  estates. 

He  is  now  immensely  wealthy.  It  never  would 
have  occurred  to  him,  perhaps,  to  attempt  to  in- 

312 


Cleggett  Accommodates  the  King 

crease  his  modest  fortune  of  $500,000  by  specu 
lating  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  had  it  not  been 
for  a  fortunate  meeting  with  a  barber  in  Nassau 
Street. 

This  barber,  whose  Christian  name  was  Walter, 
was,  indeed,  a  mine  of  suggestion  and  information 
of  all  sorts.  And  being  a  good-natured  fellow,  who 
wished  the  world  well,  Walter  delighted  to  impart 
his  original  ideas  and  the  fruits  of  his  observation 
to  his  patrons  while  shaving  them.  Some  of  these 
received  his  remarks  coldly,  it  is  true,  but  Walter 
was  so  charged  with  a  sense  of  friendliness  towards 
all  mankind  that  he  was  never  daunted  for  long  by 
a  rebuff. 

His  interests  were  wide  and  varied ;  Walter  found 
no  difficulty  in  talking  pleasantly  upon  any  subject ; 
he  could  touch  it  lightly,  or  deal  with  it  in  a  more 
serious  vein,  as  the  mood  of  his  customer  seemed 
to  require ;  and  he  had  the  art  of  making  deft  and 
rapid  transitions  from  topic  to  topic.  But  there 
were  two  things  in  particular  concerning  which  Wal 
ter  had  thought  deeply:  racehorses  and  the  stock 
market. 

It  was  the  settled  grief  of  Walter's  life  that  he 
had  never  been  able  to  persuade  any  person  with 

313 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

money  to  take  his  advice  concerning  the  races,  or 
follow  any  of  the  dazzling  stock  market  campaigns 
which  he  was  forever  outlining. 

"They  listen  to  me/*  said  Walter,  a  little  wist 
fully,  but  with  a  brave  smile,  "or  else  they  do  not 
listen — but  no  one  has  ever  yet  taken  my  advice! 
Do  you  wet  your  hair  when  you  part  it,  sir?" 

"What,"  said  Cleggett,  carefully  concealing  from 
Walter  the  fact  that  he  spoke  of  himself,  "would 
be  your  advice  to  a  man  with  $100,000  who  wished 
to  double  it  in  a  few  weeks?" 

"Double  it!"  cried  Walter.  "Why,  I  could  show 
such  a  person  how  to  multiply  it  by  ten  inside  of 
two  months."  And  he  rapidly  outlined  to  Cleggett 
a  scheme  so  audacious  and  so  brilliant  that  it  fairly 
took  our  hero's  breath  away.  Moreover,  it  stood 
the  test  of  reflection ;  it  was  sound.  Not  to  descend 
to  the  sordid  details,  in  three  weeks  Cleggett  found 
himself  possessed  of  a  million  dollars'  gain.  Half 
of  this  he  gave  to  the  excellent  Walter,  and  in  three 
months  ran  the  other  half  million  up  to  twenty 
millions. 

Then  he  withdrew  permanently  from  business,  as 
Lady  Agatha  complained  that  it  took  too  much  of 
his  time ;  moreover,  he  shrank  from  notoriety,  which 

3H 


Cleggett  Accommodates  the  King 

his  stock  market  operations  were  beginning  to  bring 
upon  him. 

Giuseppe  Jones,  who  recovered  of  his  wounds, 
forswore  anarchy  and  became  a  newspaper  re 
porter,  and  grew  to  be  a  fast  friend  of  Cleggett, 
who  discovered  that  he  was  a  lad  of  parts.  Cleggett 
eventually  made  him  president  of  a  college  of 
journalism  which  he  founded.  While  he  was  estab 
lishing  the  institution  the  man  Wharton,  his  old 
managing  editor,  broken,  shattered,  out  of  work, 
and  a  hopeless  drunkard,  came  to  him  and  begged 
for  a  position.  The  man  had  sunk  so  low  that  he 
was  repeatedly  arrested  for  pretending  to  be  blind 
on  the  street  corners,  and  had  debauched  an  inno 
cent  dog  to  assist  in  this  deception.  Cleggett  for 
gave  him  the  slights  of  many  years  and  made 
him  an  assistant  janitor  in  the  new  college  of  jour 
nalism. 

The  post  is  a  sinecure,  and  well  within  even  the 
man  Wharton's  powers. 

Cap'n  Abernethy  travels  with  the  Cleggetts  a 
great  deal,  under  the  hallucination,  which  they 
humor,  that  he  is  of  service  to  them.  The  children 
are  very  fond  of  him.  At  Claiborne  Castle  Qeggett 
has  had  a  shallow  lake  constructed  for  him.  There 

3'5 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  Captain,  still  firm  in  the  belief  that  he  is  a 
sailor,  loves  to  potter  about  with  catboats  and 
rafts. 

Dr.  Farnsworth  enjoys  a  lucrative  position  as 
physician  to  the  Cleggett  family,  and  Kuroki  is 
their  butler. 

By  1925  the  prejudice  against  militants  had 
abated  in  certain  exalted  circles  in  England,  and 
Lady  Agatha  Cleggett  and  her  husband  were  much 
at  court. 

Cleggett,  hating  notoriety,  had  endeavored  to 
conceal  the  story  of  his  adventures  along  the  dan 
gerous  coasts  of  Long  Island ;  but  concealment  was 
impossible.  After  the  death  of  the  old  Earl  of 
Claiborne,  and  the  demise  of  Reginald  Maltravers, 
and  Cleggett's  purchase  of  the  Claiborne  estate,  the 
King  wished  Cleggett  to  take  the  title  of  Earl  of 
Claiborne. 

His  Majesty  sent  the  Premier  to  sound  Cleggett 
upon  the  matter. 

"No,  no,"  said  Cleggett  affably.  "I  couldn't 
think  of  it.  I  am  quite  democratic,  you  know." 

The  second  time  the  King  sent  one  of  the  Royal 
Dukes  to  see  Cleggett.  They  were  at  a  house  party 
in  Wales,  and  Cleggett  was  a  little  disturbed  that 


Cleggett  Accommodates  the  King 

this  business  affair  should  be  brought  up  at  a  gath 
ering  so  distinctly  social  in  its  nature.  He  was  too 
tactful  to  let  it  be  seen,  but  secretly  he  felt  that  in 
approaching  the  matter  in  that  fashion  the  Duke 
had  erred  in  taste. 

"But  we  need  men  like  you  in  the  House  of 
Lords,"  pleaded  the  Duke. 

"I  cannot  think  of  it,"  said  Cleggett.  And  then, 
not  wishing  to  hurt  the  Englishman's  feelings,  he 
said  kindly:  "But  I  will  promise  you  this:  if  I 
should  change  my  mind  and  decide  to  become  a 
member  of  any  aristocracy  at  all,  it  will  be  the 
English  aristocracy." 

The  Duke  thanked  Cleggett  for  the  compliment; 
and  Cleggett  thought  he  had  heard  the  end  of  it. 

He  was,  therefore,  surprised,  a  few  weeks  later, 
as  he  was  conversing  with  the  King  at  Buckingham 
Palace,  when  His  Majesty  himself,  laying  his  hand 
familiarly  on  Cleggett's  shoulder,  renewed  the  peti 
tion  in  person.  It  is  hard  to  refuse  things  con 
tinually  without  seeming  unappreciative.  In  fact, 
Cleggett  felt  trapped;  if  the  truth  must  be  known, 
he  was  a  little  angry. 

"Come,  come,  Cleggett,"  said  the  King,  "lay  aside 
your  prejudices  and  oblige  me.  After  all,  it  is  not 


The  Cruise  of  the  Jasper  B. 

the  sort  of  thing  I  run  about  offering  to  every 
American  in  London!" 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  Cleggett,  politely  but  with 
a  note  of  firmness  and  finality  in  his  voice,  "since 
you  mention  the  word  American  you  force  me  to 
speak  plainly.  I  would  not  willingly  wound  your 
sensibilities  in  any  particular,  but — pardon  me  if  I 
am  direct — you  have  been  very  persistent.  I  am 
an  American,  your  Majesty,  and  I  consider  the 
honor  of  being  an  American  citizen  far  above  any 
that  it  is  within  your  power  to  bestow.  If  I  have 
not  mentioned  this  before,  it  was  because  I  did  not 
wish  to  hurt  you.  I  hope  our  friendship  will  not 
cease,  but  I  must  tell  you  flatly  that  I  desire  to  hear 
no  more  of  this.  You  will  oblige  me  by  not  men 
tioning  it  again,  Your  Majesty." 

The  King  begged  Cleggett's  pardon  with  a  becom 
ing  sincerity,  and  was  about  to  withdraw.  Cleggett, 
who  liked  him  immensely,  was  suddenly  smitten 
with  a  regret  that  it  had  been  so  impossible  to 
oblige  him. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  cried  impulsively,  "I  beg  of 
you  not  to  get  the  idea  that  there  is  anything  per 
sonal  in  this  refusal." 

"I  respect  principle,"  said  the  King  gravely.    But 


Cleggett  Accommodates  the  King 

he  was  hurt  and  could  not  help  showing  it,  and  he 
was  a  little  stiff. 

"We  will  compromise,"  said  Cleggett,  with  a  flash 
of  inspiration.  "I  will  let  you  have  my  second  son, 
Athos  Cleggett.  You  may  make  him  Earl  of  Clai- 
borne,  if  you  choose.  After  all,  he  is  half  English !" 

"That  is  like  your  generosity,  Cleggett,"  said 
the  King,  smiling,  and  giving  Cleggett  his  hand. 


(2) 


t 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


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